


Fall (For You Harder)

by cledritch



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Another Johnwin at Chapter 17, Charity Auctions, Drabble Collection, Fluff, High School, Humor, M/M, Mythological AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Serial Killer, Tengu Johnny, Vampire AU, child winwin au, creepy mansion au, drabble asks from tumblr, fansite and idol au, life and death personifications au, loose blood+ au, taewin, the johnwin is chapter 11, vamp taeyong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:00:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9251597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cledritch/pseuds/cledritch
Summary: It doesn't matter what they sayWe'll both be each other's ruin at the end of each day(Collection of prompts, WIPs and aus in one place)





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired by a tagalog facebook post that wandered on my feed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in 30 minutes. enjoy.

“So how did Mufasa die again?” was Sicheng’s question that made Taeyong raise a brow at him, chicken halfway into his mouth and he placed it down to give him his full attention.

He shrugged, thinking about it before he snapped his greasy fingers when he recalled. “He got killed in the hyena attack? Why are you asking?”

Sicheng’s eyebrows furrowed, plump lips jutting out as he seemed to think about it too without knowing that Taeyong is staring at those pink lips with the thought what it would be like to just kiss him- “But he got trampled by wildebeests, right?”

This made the elder raise a brow, banishing the thoughts of kisses and hugs and other romantic things you shouldn’t do to your close friend despite the glaring obvious crush you have on them. He felt a little worried that Sicheng might have had his facts wrong and he would murder anyone who would point out this lapse in memory so he repeated “No. It was being eaten by hyenas.”

The black-haired boy made a noise at the back of his throat, waving his arms “But, hyung, it was there! He got trampled by the wildebeests!” he whined, wide eyes trying to see if Taeyong was joking with him.

Poor boy. He’ll be the one getting trampled  if he doesn’t stop being so cute because Taeyong can only take so much before his resolve snaps and he’d have to kiss him while the whole cafeteria’s watching.  Taeyong knew he was long gone with his feelings for Sicheng but he must deliver the cold hard truth to protect him. _We must hurt the ones we love the most_ , he tells himself in his head because he looked like he wanted to puke with how restraining himself to just pinch Sicheng’s cheeks and praise him for days to end.

“Sicheng-“

The pout intensified and really, what did he do to deserve this torture? He sighed, discreetly pulling out his phone under the table while Sicheng waved at their classmates who greeted him when they passed by. He ignored the jealousy he felt when Sicheng giggled with some girls who blushed around him and complimenting his hair to search how Mufasa died, pulling up tabs and such before he concluded that yes, Mufasa was pushed off by Scar to be hit by the stampede of wildebeests so Sicheng was wrong-wait. He squinted at his phone, cheeks turning red when he realized he was the one wrong and he just embarrassed himself in front of his crush by not knowing the basics of an age old classic Disney movie like Lion King. He has failed and he will never get a chance to go on a date with Sicheng at this rate.

Unless…

Taeyong tucked his phone back to his pocket, plan formulating in his head as he pulled Sicheng’s wrist to get his attention, the latter whipping his head to him that ended his conversation with the girl who was flirting with him (in Taeyong’s defense, she was too close that her arm was about to touch Sicheng’s and that’s flirting, go figure) and smiled at the hand on his wrist before looking up at the elder.

“Hey, how about if Mufasa got eaten by hyenas you buy me that Everything but the Kitchen Sink ice cream buffet on that place that you were gushing about with Kun?” Sicheng scoffed, about to protest but Taeyong wasn’t done yet “But if he got trampled by these wildebeests, I’ll buy you that buffet.”

Sicheng’s eyes are sparkling and it’s so beautiful to see, the promise of his favorite cold treat for free too good of an offer to pass up and he nodded furiously. He grabbed his phone from inside his bag, almost letting it slip from his excitement and searched for the fact that will give him what he has wanted for weeks because he needed to save for a trip unaware of the smitten, doe-eyed look Taeyong is giving him with his cheek on his palm.

There’s a triumphant squeal from Sicheng’s mouth that made Taeyong compose himself out of the lovesick stupor he lapsed into, Sicheng’s bright screen with the tabs next to each other explaining that Mufasa died in a stampede after his evil brother scar had spoken long live the king and that Simba would make a dramatic yell as his father was trampled to death. The very same tab that Taeyong looked at before and Sicheng immediately clapped his hands in excitement that he stood up and hugged Taeyong’s shoulders like a kid who had been given Christmas early.

“I won! Ha!” he exclaimed, still oblivious of the bright red face Taeyong is sporting with how close their faces were and how tight he was hugging him. He once again showed his phone’s screen with a grin so wide that his teeth were in full display “Read it and weep, Taeyong-hyung. You’re buying me ice cream because I won!”

Taeyong bit back the giddy noise about to escape his throat as he managed to hug Sicheng tight because they were still celebrating. Sicheng might not know this until later that Taeyong saved money to actually buy him that expensive menu item from the resident ice cream parlor when he overheard Kun telling Yuta during their class together that Sicheng would get sick one day with how much ice cream he was ingesting and should cut the sugar. But Taeyong knew how much the boy worked hard and avoided temptation so he would shower him with this as a reward.

 _No, Sicheng._ He thought with his heart thumping wildly at the way Sicheng was smiling at him. _I just won. I just won a date with you._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sicheng being auctioned off under the offer as whoever bids the highest gets to go on one date with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> highschool au that @sugarcoffy sent me out of nowhere and i loved it okay. this is her original idea. i just did this.

This was for a good cause, Sicheng tells himself.

The tie around his neck felt constricting and he’s sweating on the white collar of the suit he’s forced into but he smiles nonetheless even when he needed to dab a tissue at the sweat dripping down his hairline to keep the illusion he’s calm. With the bright lights shining down on him, he has a hard time looking at the crowd to distinguish who has attended this event that he actually was close with and praying they would be the one to take him away.

It’s a long shot but he’s willing to risk it for the sake of having a less awkward dinner with whoever won.

“And that’s 700 dollars for Hansol! Thank you for your patronage and hope you enjoy your time with him!” the announcer, their enthusiastic teacher who probably has more fun with this than the ones being used to raise money for a new school roof, yells with much gusto it was ridiculous. They could have made a donation from the sponsors of this school but they wanted to have some student participation and this happened.

Why Sicheng got roped into this was because Kun was sick and someone needed to fill in his position or they’d have to pay. Having another reason to fork cash over a trivial matter was something that Sicheng didn’t want.

He clicks his tongue when he spots Yuta with his arm around Hansol as they leave, already seeing that his good friend who said he would help him out of this already had someone else in his mind and he can’t help the tinge of betrayal that surges in him because Yuta was supposed to save him and not go after the senior he’s clearly pining over. He was going to ignore him the next time he sees him with his new boyfriend because of this tragedy, still happy that maybe he’d stop practicing his aegyo on him to impress Hansol at this point. But then he remembered he would either go home alone or have someone pity him enough to put down money for his time.

Sicheng knows he’s quiet, not that good with his Korean that he’d carry out an interesting conversation and he’s awkward as hell that he’d probably bore anyone who tries. But maybe they’ll just be attracted to his face to realize the rest of his problems.

“Okay, next bachelor!” his teacher yells, hoots coming from the crowd as he ushered Sicheng up the steps to stand on stage with a small close-lipped smile. He hopes his hair is okay and that he’s not shaking that he almost trips on his shiny shoes that Kun forced him into to complete the look.

“Introduce yourself, please!”

Sicheng nods, looking at the crowd and squinting at the distance to give the illusion he’s actually calm and not wanting to make eye contact with the floor. He takes the microphone and taps it with a finger to check if it was on, clearing his throat. “Hello, I’m Winwin. Please take care of me.” His voice sounds like he ate sandpaper for lunch with how scratchy it was mixed with his accent and he taps his throat to relieve it as much as he could. He bows and returns the microphone to the teacher who pats his back to help him feel comfortable.

“Now, let me say our 7th bachelor is quite handsome, isn’t he? He’s a dancer and he’s known to be playful and his quiet personality is cute, am I right?” there’s a loud yell of approval from the back and Sicheng ducks his head down in embarrassment, “So! Let’s start with 100 dollars! 100 dollars?”

Someone raises their hand and Sicheng is surprised it’s Jaehyun, his other friend, who he recalled wasn’t going to come today because his boyfriend was dragging him to watch a new movie. He spots Doyoung waving at him from beside him and Sicheng feels like this event is looking up, smiling as the teacher points at Jaehyun and yelled “100! Any higher?”

Another hand and it’s Johnny with Ten raising his arm for him that the elder rolled his eyes at the latter but threw a shy smile at Sicheng. He was a nice guy from one of his dance classes and Ten was someone that he and Yuta hung out with in their Advanced Korean classes to learn the language together that they knew each other well enough to have each other’s back. The smaller boy yells a “Go Winwin!” as a means to perk him up and it worked that Sicheng chuckles into his hand  when Johnny manages a “300 dollars” that was probably for something else but he’ll humor Ten as well as help Sicheng.

The teacher claps his hands, the microphone making a screeching noise that hurts his ears and places it back near his mouth. “That’s a whole lot! They must want to accompany you but can we get it higher?” he gestures the crowd and Sicheng can tell that his friends will probably have a dinner together as a group because they know that the boy doesn’t dwell well in situations with strangers. He’s grateful and he’s ready to tell the teacher that it’s okay and no need to waste more money than necessary when-

“ONE MILLION DOLLARS.” There’ a loud yell that echoes through the auditorium and everyone looks around to see the large doors thrown open and a frazzled Lee Taeyong is huffing while holding a hand up despite struggling to catch his breath with his free hand holding his knee. He’s still in his school uniform unlike the rest who changed for the event that suggested he probably was at the student council room doing overtime despite today being a free day.  He straightens himself, hand still in air and sends a nervous smile at Sicheng.

Said boy is blushing profusely because he recalled the events prior to him being whisked away by Kun to get dressed. Sicheng hides his face under his hand because Lee Taeyong is walking up to the side of the stage with a self-satisfied grin on his face and the teacher is raising a brow at him.

“It’s-this is a high school event. I don’t think you really have-“

“I BID TWO MILLION.” Taeyong doesn’t even hesitate to raise the stakes and you can hear the whole room face-palm at him. Jaehyun stares slack-jawed while Doyoung hides his groan onto his palm and Johnny is laughing with Ten at the determination in Taeyong’s face.

The teacher sighs, shaking his head at the overeager look on the student council’s president as he unabashedly walks up the steps to hold Sicheng’s hands even when the latter is blushing redder than a tomato.

If being asked out by his lockers with flowers and gifts was embarrassing enough, then being bid money they all know Taeyong doesn’t have is straight out making Sicheng feel like he’s under a spotlight he doesn’t belong in. He looks into the elder’s eyes, the happiness sparkling so much that it overpowers the lights around Sicheng that he can’t help the shy smile on his face.

“Taeyong, I understand you really want to spend a night with Sicheng but you don’t have-“

Everyone laughs at the implication and Taeyong yells a “Teach, that’s not it!” with his cheeks flaming red and takes out his wallet to take out about 1000 dollars that Sicheng makes a weird face of discomfort at how much he’s spending but the teacher laughs and says “Sold. But then again, the challenge of courtship is still beginning.” He even winks at the two of them and Taeyong laughs nervously.

Sicheng rolls his eyes when the elder reaches out his hand that he takes and they walk down with soft smiles.

“You didn’t have to bid a million for my time-“

“What do you mean? Your company is worth much more that I-“

Sicheng giggles when Jaehyun, Doyoung, Johnny and Ten shout and make cat calls at them that sent Taeyong ducking his head in sudden shyness. He raises his head with a hand on his chin that the elder’s blinking at the gesture and said to him “I would be glad to give you my time for free.”

Taeyong is blushing throughout the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> serial killer au

Taeyong loved abandoned grassy lots.

It's a testament of something untouched by the concrete structures that the city is filled with, their bending tendrils of grass that sway with the breeze that flows past during good days and the smell of wet mud when the rain comes to wash over the place.

"Don't you think it's lovely?" he tells the wide eyed boy who's holding a red umbrella over his head, tilting to the side as the darkness doesn't show much other than what the fixture of orange glowing from the street posts that surround them. It's past midnight, the streets devoid of people other than the two of them and Taeyong just wants to run up them to kiss them in the rain like some romantic scene from a movie. But he can't. He can't do that lest he ruins the boy's beautiful white coat with his stained hands from the body that he's hauling by the sack with the bottom seeping red from the gash that he made. It would be a shame to destroy whatever semblance of innocence that he sees in Sicheng and he raises his hands to show the blood on his palms "I would hug you but I'm dirty."

Sicheng twirls his umbrella's handle, humming when he crosses the ledge to where his boots land on the mud with a splat. He is mindful of the mess not reaching his clothes and waddles like a duck towards Taeyong in a way that makes the other smile fondly at the effort. There would always be something unpredictable with Sicheng's mannerisms despite the softness he carries like a shield and he wants to cup his chin to coo over how much he wished he would take care of him the same way he took care of Taeyong.

"Baby, you're my only one."

Sicheng pouts, closing his umbrella that Taeyong furrows his brows but the younger pokes the pointy end of his umbrella on the sack. "Wrong."

Taeyong shushes him, walking closer to lean his forehead on Sicheng's despite the glaring height difference and the latter stares into his eyes with a conviction he's so in love with. "Baby, he doesn't mean anything. I promise you he was barking up the wrong tree. You did nothing wrong."

"But you said he was prettier," Sicheng narrowed his eyes and he kicks at the sack that sends it knocking down with a bone-crushing thud, umbrella stabbing at the sack that a fresh dribble of red comes out the hole he made "That he was less annoying and he gave you space-" he pouts more, eyelashes fluttering that Taeyong kisses them while his hands restrain from touching the unmarred skin he had caressed so many times the nights before "-that he's your number one."

Taeyong's chest constricts because Sicheng is so easily scared of him leaving that he wipes his hands on his hands not caring anymore to card his fingers through Sicheng's hair to calm him and kisses around his face, his forehead then little pecks on his eyes to his nose and then presses urgent kisses on those shaking lips.

"Baby, would I throw him out if I didn't want you?"

Sicheng shakes his head, letting go of his umbrella to hug Taeyong and the elder groans when he finds that the coat is going to be speckled with blood that would put his baby in trouble. He tells as much to him but Sicheng rolls his eyes. "I don't care. I love you and I don't care if you're dirty."

Taeyong sighs, heart fond and he presses his lips on Sicheng's neck where he can feel the adrenaline making his pulse race from the blood lust he got lost in before and Taeyong still needed to throw the body on the lot like all the others.

"You're the best, baby."

Taeyong loved empty lots. 

It's easier to get rid of bodies there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fansite and idol au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i deleted this before because i lost inspiration

_Snap!_

Dark eyelashes fanning over fair cheeks as he walks towards the cargo bay.

_Snap!_

Delicate, long fingers grasp the face mask over his mouth, fixing it to fit on the slope of his nose before grasping his luggage as he looks over the people around him.

_Snap!_

He looks at the camera held by someone in the crowd, directly at the lens without meaning to and his eyes curve to a smile that is mirrored behind his face mask.

_Snap!_

His back is to the crowd as he follows his companions and his gait looked awkward enough it can be considered endearing to many. He doesn’t look back and it’s a beautiful thing to see him vanish into their van because one more second of looking at him would have sent Taeyong losing consciousness due to the lack of air.

There’s the fading of the background noise that accompanied the arrival of Fic-Tion, loud shrieking and outburst of joy at the sight of them walking out of the hanger and into the halls. Girls with banners that shouted “Oppa, marry me!” and the fansite masters that scuttled to take photos of the tired boys from their concert in Japan. The bodyguards around them did their best to push off anyone who wanted to make a grab at the idols who seem too exhausted from their activities to be able to fend off anyone at the moment. The moment they entered the van, some tried to chase the vehicle and others were satisfied with their photos. However, some girls stop and stare at the male who held his DSLR camera close to his chest, handsome without a doubt with his bone structure and dark eyes but he didn’t mind the looks he got because his jacket had two W’s crossing in the middle at the back and everyone knew well who it was.

The male turns away from where he originally stood as he starts to walk to the exit. He keeps his head down to scan the pictures he took, heart thrumming whenever he looks over some that make it seem as if the one in the photos is looking at him but shakes his stupid giddy fan boy feelings aside to take a few previews for his followers. They all look forward to his updates and he can’t help but agree that he always wants to know what the group is doing.

It doesn’t necessarily mean that he doesn’t look forward to seeing someone specific.

 

“Did you go to the airport to see that Winner again?”

Taeyong’s response is immediate. “It’s Winwin. For the last time, his name is Winwin.”

Kim Minseok gives him an unimpressed look from where he is sitting on the couch, feet up on the wooden coffee table Taeyong made for his woodshop class two years ago. The elder is holding on his phone as he keeps his gaze on the drama on the television in front of him. He looks out of place with his bangs clipped into a bun and cheeks puffed in annoyance that doesn’t go well with his green tracksuit.

Taeyong glances at the clock on the wall, grimacing at the time. “Is it that late, hyung?”

Minseok throws his hands up with a sarcastic laugh that makes him sound like a demonic hamster. “Oh, so you realized midnight is late for you already? Your mother called me nonstop and nagged me that maybe you have a girlfriend somewhere where you’d be staying the night.”

“Um-“

“But I told her you might as well sleep at the airport because your ‘girlfriend’ isn’t real and all you have is a camera and an unhealthy infatuation with an idol.” Minseok shakes his head, his bun swaying with the movement. He means well, he really does but Taeyong is someone who doesn’t listen to anybody if it concerned something he is interested in.

Taeyong isn’t a child and his mother should know that. He’s twenty-one years old with two jobs he balances with his hobbies and social circle of close weirdoes for friends while Kim Minseok looks after him because apparently, he’s not old enough for this responsibility. “Are you done? I have to update.”

Minseok weeps for the boy’s hopeless dreams and goes to his room to wallow why his godson is an idiot. Taeyong doesn’t add that the elder might be stalking that model from China in Instagram again like the hypocrite he is.

“Don’t be up too late cyber stalking!” he calls out when he is safe in the confines of the four corners of his room, locking his door for good measure because Minseok once hit him with a wooden spoon for insulting him.

“Shut up!” is the muffled reply and a low murmur he can’t hear that was probably about Taeyong being the stalker.

 

Taeyong is a freelance photographer by day, taking day-offs whenever he pleases while he saves enough money to ensure he can take trips to other countries where he might be needed. He has his trusty DSLR and lenses as well as extra luggage whenever he can to take the photos he takes pride for, his interest spanning from holding an old camera model his father gave him as a child that now rests in the bottom of his drawer worn with age. It’s why he took multimedia in college and then took it to himself to minor in other arts because there is just something about fluidity in dancing, the calming tones of singing before becoming deep rasps of rap and the heavy weight of lenses in his palm as he raises his camera to gain a good angle that sends his heart pumping and his happiness almost radiating in waves.

He’s no overachiever but he wants to be good in what he wants to achieve that he works hard towards his goals. It makes him happy and he earns well that Minseok always seems to take his smile after a successful shoot to lay off taunting him about his other use for his photography skills.

If he is Lee Taeyong, freelance photography and all-around talent any other day then he is WinYourHeart’s fansite master for the rest of Fic-Tion’s career.

Twenty-one and a male fansite master is what Minseok likes taunting him about every time he seems to be working on something not related to a client. Something about a gleam in Taeyong’s eyes that only show when he talks about Winwin.

WinYourHeart is something that Taeyong thought would fit when he first started into the fandom, scrolling down his personal Twitter and wondering why people were making Fic-Tion trend when it was just some misspelled rendition of fiction and he clicked the hashtag without any thought.

The first posts he sees is a music video for a “Cover Story”, the thumbnail is of a blonde in pajamas reading a red book. It has about 100K retweets and 7K likes while he checks the ones after it that is some post about concept photos that looked promising enough. He sees a brunet cradling a rose that he rests on his cheek, then another with the said book from the thumbnail looking like he is angry at the book and then someone being held in a bird cage with the most forlorn look on his face. He sees more of another brunet who is reaching out to the mirror on the ceiling and a redhead who is held by strings before he halts at the next photo that his eyes land on.

Blond that looks pink in the angle and being held by his wrists with a paper-machie of chains, looking like some angel being tortured with paper cuts.  There’s nothing special about his face, Taeyong has photographed more people who look like the runway is their home with exotic beauties and eternal features. This one, however, had very minor imperfections that if you didn’t look closer into them, you’d miss. It’s the way his eyes are scrunched up, not that half-lidded or wide but enough you could see something so fragile in them and there is a burning need inside Taeyong to protect him that rushes out of nowhere.

He likes caring for people he cares about, a statement that even Minseok begrudgingly agrees to because Taeyong is the grandfather that nags and babies you to the point of embarrassment especially when they are younger than him. Taeyong nags his brother Ten who always takes some parts to heart and let himself be treated to food and coffee. Even Johnny who is a friend of Ten’s can see how much of a softie Taeyong can be when he wants to treat everyone.

But it’s for people he’s _close_ with, not some idol whose photo he manages to stumble on Twitter looking like he can star in an innocent safe for work origami version of Fifty Shades.

Minseok still cringes when Taeyong relays that story in exact detail for his cringe-worthy analysis that has nothing to do with anything at all.

But Taeyong admits that yes, he was snatched out of his safe world outside of anything that involves lanes and biases because of Winwin. He researched more about Fic-Tion, the information he got from their promotion implied that they have one last concert in Seoul before they begin to rest and prepare for some new activities their company would give them. He learns that Yuta is Japanese while Winwin is struggling with his Korean because he was Chinese and had the shortest training period as a trainee. He memorized their names and their faces because everyone was amazing in the struggles they went through to debut that he wanted to make an OT6 fansite to honor Yuta, Taeil, Haechan, Mark, Jaehyun and Winwin. Originally, he thought of that when he purchased a concert ticket to see them but then when he wanted to see photos of Winwin for research purposes, he is a little angry as to why there are a few fansites for him when he is the visual of the group. So when he is in the concert hall with his DSLR safe with him despite not knowing if it was okay to bring cameras inside, he doesn’t think and he lets his camera land where it wants and snaps away pictures. The songs are lovely; the concept of poetry being turned into meaningful messages about life that blends more into a platonic-romantic notion and when Winwin tries his best to speak Korean in a deep voice that may be surprising for his face, Taeyong’s heart is won.

That was how he started WinYourHeart; from a smile with so much brightness it was as if the world can be peaceful. Winwin can win anyone even when he isn’t doing anything and why is it so endearing?

 

Taeyong wakes up three months after Fic-Tion’s announcement that they would be resting and thanking the fanfics for their undying support as well as saying that they should look forward to their comeback to a notification from Fic-Tion’s twitter account. They have been laying low for the past month and dropping occasional messages and selcas courtesy of Yuta and the maknaes who like playing games with their fans and giving shout outs when they win. The others like Taeil who is having solo activities are asking for support and give him strength and even Jaehyun is taking time off with his family. He looks forward to Winwin posting despite how mundane they may seem such as trying out new words or showing his Caramel Machiatto that he found delicious. He was cute and he melts whatever worries Taeyong carried with him with a mere smile. This is why he has a hard drive of all things Winwin from fancams, HD photos from other fansites and music videos too just so he can see Winwin dancing. There might also be a video of Winwin dancing Chinese traditional dance on Weekly Idol and it is a good kind of different that Taeyong is always blushing after watching it.

You are a man, Minseok would scold him in a teasing manner when he finds him with his laptop on his lap and there’s a full screen of pre-debut Winwin who looks like he is confused or aloof about taking his picture taken but still looking so cute that it makes Taeyong smile wide. (Taeyong would get his revenge when he sees that Minseok left his room open while he makes dinner and his desktop has a full screen 1080p definition of a video by of a blonde male being held to a wall with vines. Minseok is screeching when he sees Taeyong using his Instagram account he also left open to leave a comment on said blonde. They both gained injuries from that.)

He may look like a serial killer from Johnny’s perspective-which is ironic because Johnny himself looks like he can kill anyone with a judgmental stare-but he’s nothing more than a cinnamon roll that Ten would always add when Johnny would insult how his eyebrows make him look angry and his intense stare can be seen as murderous.

Winwin looks like a cinnamon roll and is a cinnamon roll, he once captioned his post on a HD photo of Winwin’s bright smile showcasing his teeth and the little slant of one of his canines makes him look more…real, as if he is just some boy that you can meet on the street who you’d help if he needed it. His followers all agreed wildly and he thought maybe it was true.

Back to the point at hand, Taeyong unlocks his phone to find that Fic-Tion has tweeted something but it’s not the usual hashtag that accompanies their casual posts. He opens it and blue engulfs his screen as he stares at the white bird in the middle before the tweet loads and he almost drops his phone in shock as he takes in what looks like a concept trailer.

He’s yelling at the top of his lungs that he might have woken Minseok up by mistake.

Taeyong wants to watch it, he really does but he has work in an hour and the client is quite particular with time that he can’t afford to be late so he steels himself to at least see his timeline before he rushes. He doesn’t like being spoiled on something but he muses this was an emergency while also pushing the thought he’d been deprived of Winwin for three months he deserved it to the back of his mind.

He looks over the posts he can see as he quickly freshens up and brushes his teeth while Minseok is banging on his door once he’s dressed in comfortable jeans and a button-down for some sense of formality. He takes one last look at his phone and his throat hitches at the words he catches from his mutual’s retweet. But time was ticking and he grabs his work bag and camera steadily before he retweets the post as well to be reminded of what to look forward to after the day ends.

The words ‘GALAXY HAIR WINWIN’ and two screenshots of his bias with an ombre of purple, pink and blue laying in a pool of water covered in flowers is enough motivation.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> au where taeyong is a secret in the attic and winwin is the new employee to the mansion  
> (i lost inspiration for this WIP)

"My name is Winwin."

The name leaves an unfamiliar taste in his mouth as he speaks, his hand clasped tightly on the handle of his suitcase as he looks at the man sitting behind the desk with a look that masks his nervousness.

The man, pale and beautiful despite the tired eyes he is trying to hide, smiles at him as he stands to shake his hand. "Hello, Winwin. Odd name and I don't think you're Korean either."

He nods to himself as he moves papers away to find the application letter Winwin had written prior but the younger puts his suitcase down, opens the clasp and pulls out a clean sheet of the application without a fuss  before handing it to him. "You seem really prepared for someone your age."

"I'm only twenty and the worker's aid told me you appreciated it when there's a smooth process."

It wasn't exactly a lie but the exact words the woman inside the stuffy worker office said were "Mr. Kim is a perfectionist despite his looks. His lamb-like exterior is just a front after his wife died." Winwin disliked gossip especially of someone he might be seeing more of the following days and he focused on giving the best impression he could to land this job.

"As you know, my name is Kim Junmyeon and if you have heard from town, I don't usually take in employees at this time of the year." the man is apprehensive, second-thinking whether or not this was a good idea. Junmyeon liked the current staff but most of them were inclined to get errands in places he's not comfortable visiting and he hates it when some people demand a job from his house with an air of arrogance that borderlines to rudeness.

Winwin looked at him with a quiet gaze before he began to sigh, "I understand that. I also know that there is a lack of servants in your house and I prefer working away from scrutiny as well keeping absolute confidentiality of the situation concerning my employer."

Junmyeon nodded, his younger features almost making Winwin think he looked more his age and not the successful ship port mogul who lost his wife in an accident and his eldest son missing. He may not be the gossiper but word spreads so easily in a town as quiet as this with a large mansion that is secluded from the rest of it housing a family that carried more secrets than anyone can dig. It was the perfect place for Winwin-

"Absolute confidentiality?" Junmyeon asked, laughing a little. "There's nothing to hide here."

"Everyone has something to hide and I don't have any assurance you don't have any, sir."

-A perfect place to hide a secret under more secrets.

 

Junmyeon is talkative, his Korean sometimes too fast for Winwin to comprehend but he catches words now and then before putting them together to piece the sentence as much as he can understand. He talks about the current staff as he rings up someone with a button behind his desk and a tall male with blonde hair comes rushing in, bowing at Junmyeon before looking at Winwin.

"This is Taeil, the one in charge of everyone here while the others away. He's going to show you around. Taeil, this is Winwin and he will be joining the household today. Treat him well."

Taeil sends him a smile that Winwin returns with a shy nod of his head. "Take care of me." he bows.

Junmyeon is sorting his files again as he says "Tour him the house and to his room so he can rest. We'll let him start straight tomorrow." he waves them away, hand on his chin as Winwin spots a gold ring with a carving that is too far away from him to make out on his ring finger. "Send some tea to my room after. You may go."

And that is how Winwin found himself with Taeil as they roamed the halls of the mansion.

"The kitchen is on the north wing of the house, straight and turn to the corner to find it. The dining room is a hall across it but there are certain instances that members of the family eat in the kitchen because they got too tired of waiting. There are a total of fifty rooms throughout and more than half is still unused because the renovations stopped after-" Taeil trails off as they pass the large painting that is hanging on the wall before the living room. It's of the Kim family with Yoona and Junmyeon standing together behind their three sons dressed to the nines with serious looks in their beautiful faces. It's eerie as Winwin stares longer, their gazes are cold and fixated on him like they are robbing him of his soul. A ridiculous sense of paranoia crawls on Winwin's spine, tingling in his gut that feeling of being watched and he turns his head to the top of the long winding staircase that led to the North and South wings of the mansion, bars around a certain vacuum cute that resembled a small balcony.

"Mrs. Kim, bless her soul is at peace now." Taeil says, looking down before he steers Winwin to the other rooms to help him find where he needs to be when he is called. "There are certain places in the house we aren't allowed to enter and it's for the family's privacy."

Winwin nods.

"I haven't asked yet but are you from around here?" The blond said, their footsteps echoing as they walked up the stairs and turning to the right where a hallway greeted them.  Winwin shook his head and Taeil continued. "The Kim family have been in this town for years, their ancestors establishing the port for trade and transportation before they widened their shares and soon, you can find that they developed a shipyard that sells the best boats from this town. They've always been well-liked so don't be surprised if Mr. Kim throws a party once in a while. It's a courtesy and a thank you of sorts for all the employees of his branch."

"But people don't really..." Winwin can't put a word to it and he's almost reverting to his language but Taeil pitches in for him.

"Townsfolk lost respect for the family after someone came and ruined their name."

There's no further elaboration as Taeil opens a room where someone is busy painting the ceiling, the man concentrated on his paintbrush as he strokes and blends the angel he's forming. He's balanced on a stepladder with his neck craned up looking as if nothing can break his concentration. 

"Yixing-hyung? Do you have a minute?"

The male looks down, smile showcasing a dimple that Winwin finds attractive and puts down his brush for a moment to take in the newcomers. "Taeil, hello. Is this the new member of the family?"

"A brand new one to look after, especially from his highness and his mood swings." Taeil jokes as he steps toward the ladder. "I need the keys of the third floor south wing plan. He needs to know which rooms need to be cleaned for tomorrow."

Yixing, Winwin figures, laughs low as he fishes the back of his jeans and tossing a bunch of antique-looking keys held by a red key ring to Taeil who catches it easily. "I'm sure Sehun will be lenient with him. He has more trouble with the pressure of his marriage and how Chen isn't coming home again because he's part of the vocal showcase in Bangkok again." there's a nostalgic air that overcomes Yixing as he starts to return to his mural painting. "Winwin, was it?"

The younger addressed nods at the call of his name, rigid with tension. "Yes, hyung?"

"You'll be okay, here. And your accent suggests you're not from around here, either. Same minds get along well so if you need me just ask the others where to find me."

Taeil grabs his arm and guides him out, sending a good bye as they walk towards the rooms with the keys in hand.

"So, let's go back to my explanation. Kim Junmyeon, older than he looks and son of a oil heiress and successful CEO who moved here after his grandfather passed away and his grandmother demanded him to carry on the business despite being only sixteen. Granted, she might have missed him too but that's something Yixing-hyung probably knows and I'd rather not say weird things to you. Kim Yoona was his childhood friend and they were set to marry ever since they were young so the moment they were of age, the wedding was set. It was a gathering no one forgot about and they settled in this mansion. They have three sons but Mr. Kim has prohibited us from talking about the eldest."

"The eldest?"

Taeil nodded, his words hushed as he looked around "Minseok-hyung has been missing for seven years. I don't know much and the older staff refuse to say anything." His voice returns to its normal volume as he continues. "The second eldest is Jongdae-hyung who is abroad for his studies at the moment. He's rather funny and likes to prank the staff that his father always seems to be at a point of a heart attack." he laughs.

"The youngest is Sehun-hyung and he's a handful at times. If you are assigned to him, please be patient with him and his tendencies because he's so dramatic at times. He's bratty and he knows it and Yixing-hyung likes to whack him. for it."

"You all seem close." Winwin mutters, eyes wide at how they were addressing their employers like old friends. It's different from the usual and he can't grasp how he can fit in with people who have known each other for so long they have become family.

Taeil wraps an around his shoulders, comforting him. "Soon, you will also be part of the family. Just try to survive."

The older lets go as he thinks over what needs to be done and exclaims a "Oh and there is a rule that shouldn't be broken by anyone here."

"Hm?"

"Only Mr. Kim can go to the observation room." he says in a serious tone and Winwin tilts his head in confusion.

"The what?"

Taeil points to the staircase that is a distance away from them, trailing his finger to the tiny inside balcony-like railings with a grave expression. "That room is off limits except Mr. Kim. Please remember that and never forgot no matter what."

Winwin follows his line of sight, almost squinting when he sees a shadow over the bars but dismisses it to follow Taeil who is busy muttering something he can't understand. Something along the lines of "Yuta went there and never came back."

\---

Winwin's first week was uneventful.

He was used to his cramped house back in Zheijang where his siblings would constantly cave their shoulders in to fit in the small space of their dining table, shoulders always brushing whenever there are two people inside the same room doing anything even as simple as getting a plate and they slept with their legs tangled together while he had to endure Chenle's quiet snores that is often overshadowed by the noisy exhales Renjun made when he is asleep.

It's disconcerting that in this three-story mansion, the space is so big it becomes impersonal.

He is always walking through empty halls looking like the intricate fleur-de-lis patterned walls could swallow his smaller frame that held freshly-laundered blankets  for the others, people he was introduced to after a tour to through the first and second floors where he is still intimidated with how many rooms this mansion has would zoom past him in a hurry that it almost looked like no one was there in the first place and not to mention how their employer seemed to be constantly away from his own house that it almost felt like the place was empty. Winwin understood that privileged rich men were different from his world, that their wealth often didn't mean they were happy but the sheer practicality of the living situation reminded him of some cold desolate feeling of abandonment stemming from indifference.

He wonders if the sons felt it and he almost feels sorry for them until he recalls that he sacrificed his own brothers to give them something the Kim sons had: money.

The realization makes him colder as he holds the sheets closer, drowning in lavender -scented fabric conditioner to ease the homesickness that turns to guilt.

 

"Wanna come with me to the market today?"

Jaehyun is a kind guy around his age, a little soft-spoken but always knowing what to say whenever Winwin looks like he's about to be bored out of his wits. Right now, it's 6 AM and he made the mistake of waking up to the lull of the morning rain that settled after he had gotten dressed and headed downstairs to the dining room. With his button-down and slacks, Winwin feels like a butler but without the title that is with it due to the uniform-like requirement. It usually meant less laundry for the others and Winwin likes to keep his casual clothes for when he wants to take a day off away from the house. Also, some of his clothes are off-colored, product of Chenle's mistake of putting bleach with his colored cloths many months ago.

Winwin nods, sipping the last of the sludge he made before Jaehyun came in. "Is it alright for Mr. Kim that you'll be adding one more?"

"We're taking the car so it's no big deal. Mr. Kim didn't come home from his office again and Master Sehun left an hour ago to deal with the investors from China."

Winwin has yet to meet the youngest son properly as Sehun is prone to disappearing like his father at odd intervals throughout the day, returning with the most disinterested look on his face and proceeding to either his room or the Study Hall where his tutor would be waiting for him. He's seen him walk upstairs for a while, being ignored as he stared at the tall blond with a stride that was arrogant as if he owned the world and a face that was too set to stone that he looked like a statue walking.

Like father, like son he supposes.

"Sure. Let's go."

The Chevrolet they ride in isn't new but it's well-maintained with its shiny paint job that glistens in the dewy atmosphere. Jaehyun instructs him to put on his seatbelt to which he does and turns on the engine. It's a funny thing to see: two young men in a butler-like attire driving a nice car that could see better days cruising in the early morning from a mansion where people gossip about the age-old family.

The car is pulling out of the parking spot, Jaehyun's eyes concentrated on the back to avoid hitting the hedge that Haechan had cut yesterday and rotates the wheel to drive out the gate. Winwin is looking up at the large mansion, its marble pillars coated in dirt and grime from the rain that pelted it through the years and the small intricate woodwork around the edges of the windows. His gaze lands on the window at the very top where he distinctly remembers is where the dubbed 'observation room' that is actually a fancy term for the well-kept attic is. The curtains are drawn, fluttering despite the lack of wind and Winwin isn't sure if it's cold morning air that is making him see things or if the coffee isn't kicking in his system but as soon as Jaehyun has the car driving out the gates, he sees it.

There's a shadow of someone sitting by the window.

 

"So, Winwin. A week into the job and what's your impression on the Kims?"

Jaehyun is sniffing the lemons to check their freshness, eyes flitting to his companion at the question as Winwin arranges the items in the basket he held by his elbow. The latter placed five pieces into the basket, hand stilling as he waited for the response.

Winwin cleared his throat. "Gossip is bad."

Jaehyun threw his head back as he laughed, his hand on his gaping mouth trying to keep what's left of his decorum intact. "You sound like a stuffy senior, Winwin. We're the same age so don't be so formal."

There aren't much people in the market during the time they parked the car in a small space before the stalls littered the area, sellers screaming at the top of their lungs their prices for their goods with crates full of produce and knicknacks that amazed Winwin as they passed. The small crowd of people who were in the stalls sometimes gawked at them when they walked by in the way that they've seen ghosts, especially at Jaehyun who casually made small talk with some despite their wide eyed stares. Winwin wasn't sure how to grasp the attention if being inspected and resorted to silence as they browsed the items.

"They seem...distant?"

"Don't you sound unsure, Winwin. If you want to say they are a weird family, you can. You're the longest new recruit we had since last month. It's an honor." Jaehyun winked and they began to walk further into the town, the sun starting to rise in the horizon that its beams are making heat trickle on Winwin's skin.

"How long have you worked for them?"

"A year and a half," Jaehyun mused as they made way to a bakery, the bell making a soft clang as he opened the door and led Winwin inside. "It was Jongdae-hyung who helped me find work when he was visiting for summer break and I guess he wanted to help my family when my parents got sick.Small towns make it easy to remember everyone."

"Oh. So you've been working there for some time." Winwin replied as he took in the heavenly sent of baked goods and pastries that came from inside the bakery, light pink decoration complimenting the polka-dotted white walls while the wooden chairs were painted the same shade as the walls to compliment the entire homely atmosphere. Jaehyun doesn't waste time as he moves to the glass case where cakes are being displayed.

There is a bored looking man behind the counter, black hair tucked in a snapback as he picks dirt off his fingernails. "If it isn't Kim's cook. How's everything up there in the mystery manor?"

Winwin's eyes narrow, not liking the sudden attention but Jaehyun waves at the man with a sheepish grin. "Oh, Yoongi-hyung, don't give our new friend a heart attack. When will you ever stop thinking like there's some dirty secret in the Kim family?"

Yoongi shrugged, looking disinterested even when his gaze lands on Winwin. "Everyone likes gossip. I'm just one of the few who likes to keep their observations to himself."

"Which are?"

"If I wasn't being manhandled into cashier duty, I'd be solving why the Kims stopped having such grand parties after the missus's death."

Jaehyun laughs a little but there's a hint of warning in his eyes as he points at the cakes in display. "That's their business, don't you think? A whole strawberry shortcake and several loaves of your fresh bread. I'd be stupid not to buy Seokjin-hyung's best-seller and Yixing-hyung wanted some too."

Winwin takes in the noncommittal shrug Yoongi once again makes as he bags the items with a lethargic motion, bored still. "What's your name again, kid?" he asked, eyes still on the paper bag he was holding.

"Winwin, hyung." he muttered and Yoongi nods when he hands the items.

"Good luck with the job. The town knows you'll need it there."

Jaehyun herds Winwin away from Yoongi and they leave the  shop without any words that it's making him nervous. They walk back to the car in silence, the other's face emotionless as he keeps a tight grip on Winwin's wrist that it hurt and he can't do anything in fear that he might anger him more.

His wrist is released as Jaehyun opens the driver's seat door open and Winwin scurries to the opposite side. More silence engulfs them both as the latter puts on his seatbelt. The engine roars as Jaehyun starts up the car and Winwin is starting to become curious.

It's interesting but Winwin can't pry. It's like opening a wound that from what he gathered, the household still hasn't recovered from and it's not a risk he's willing to take with his job on the line.

So he keeps quiet and stares out the window just as they pull into the gates, his mind drifting back to what he saw before they left. Just to be sure, Winwin looks up to the window at the very top to make sure he was just hallucinating from his sleepy state. He almost breathes a sigh of relief.

There's nothing there.

A trick of the mind as he helps Jaehyun carry the bags inside, whistling a tune to calm himself because maybe he was just overthinking that the window was open when he is pretty sure it was closed before.

There is nothing there, he repeats as he disappeared into the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vampire au where sicheng needs to find his sire's first born and along the way gets attached.  
> (WIP I posted before but deleted)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going back to uni so i can't write as much like before. that's why these are being posted all at once.

Sicheng understands.

He understands why he’s pushed off the balcony and into the traffic that sprawled sixteen feet below.

The lights from the cars and the building around the apartment complex would be the last thing he sees of Beijing before his body hits the ground with a sickening crack and his limbs twist in angles that humans can’t achieve.

He wakes up in the morgue with a tag looped around his big toe, dressed in a smock that doesn’t seem to close at the back. He notes that the gurney is still stained with dried blood that mingles with the blood he injected to himself to at least have a complexion and clicks his tongue at the waste.

Sicheng would have to ask his maker for a vial again but his thoughts halt as he sees the gash on his wrist that had been sewed by whoever collected his body.

His maker had set him free, tore the mark off his wrist to break any connection that could lead Sicheng back to his side.

The worst part is that Sicheng isn’t sure if letting him go was the most ideal solution.

“Be safe.” he muttered with his lips on the loops of thread holding the skin on his wrist together before he fetched some clothes off the nearest body he could find and left.

That was ten years ago in a questionable funeral home in Beijing.

 

 

“Hey, is it just me or are you glowing today?” It’s the same joke Mark drops before he steals whatever Donghyuk is drinking and plopping down next to him looking like he has everyone figured out. 

“Funny.” is his clipped answer that makes Mark laugh and the others in the table reprimand him for it.

Yuta is almost hitting the back of the younger’s head if not for him moving away when he does so. “Could you be slower in your words? He’s blindly agreeing!”

Sicheng takes a bite of his sandwich, coarse grains against his tongue as he makes a show of enjoying it. “It’s okay. Understood.” he says in the best clueless tone he can, the one they baby him for because he can’t fully grasp Korean and an effective way to shut down any more teasing.

Pampered, something Sicheng is unconsciously subjected to without any questions.

The cafeteria is quieter with the students all in their classes and it is only by sheer luck that they all have been released by their professors for a joint meeting that led to them having an afternoon snack together after heavy workloads and all-nighters. They should’ve been sick of each other’s faces after two years of friendship and yet the bantering and endless teasing never seems to falter Sicheng.

It’s nice, with Yuta’s motherly mindset that is used to keep the freshmen Mark and Donghyuk in line with their history of making things difficult for their professors and his roommate Taeil who is helpful when he needs to be, nice enough that he can pretend it would last long.

He’s good at pretending.

Mark doesn’t drop his question as he pokes at Sicheng’s cheek for a second before the latter is leaning away with a confused look. “You used to have crazy dark circles last week and now you look like a beauty commercial. Share your secrets with us night owls!”

Mark is young, loud with his words and his presence that he doesn’t realize how pushy he is. He’s curious because there are things he wants answers for and he is doing it right now.

Sicheng nods along his sentence like he understands the jumble of words the younger is sprouting but he tilts his head and replies with “My secret only.”

The whole table laughs, three of the occupants out of glee but Sicheng laughs it off with less mirth because he knows Mark is not done.

“Did you and Jaehyun finally go out?”

Sicheng grimaces at that, covering it by coughing into his hand when all his mouth tastes is ash from the sandwich Yuta gave him. “We’re friends.”

“I thought you and him have a special connection?” Yuta teases, rumors he heard from the soccer team’s lockers fresh in his head. “He’s a good cook and he seems to be serious in asking you out.”

Donghyuk has begun to make some intricate writings on his ramyun container and nudges Mark. “Don’t we have an assignment for Geometry? Let me see your notes.”

Sicheng drowns out the taste of ash with artificial orange and hopes they forget.

 

 

“You’re back.” Taeil greets him the moment he is inside their dorm room, hands clutching what seems to be a bouquet of flowers and Sicheng stops him from handing them over. 

“I told you not accept them, _hyung.”_ he says as he places his bag on the coffee table and turns back to the older male who just chuckles.

“He was nice enough to wait for you and I had to force him to give it to me because I am a good _hyung_ who knows you rather not face him more than you need to,” he says in a cheeky tone as he settles the flowers he plucked out the garish pink covering wrapped around them into a glass with water. “Sicheng- _ah,_ just tell him to move his affections elsewhere.”

“It’s not easy.” 

Taeil looks at him with an unreadable look before he pats his head and sighs, “Use your words, hm? He’ll get over your rejection.”

What’s the point is what runs in Sicheng’s mind as he looks at Taeil’s form retreating to his room.

Humans were so persistent about their feelings.

So stubborn that they believe they can die from something as superficial as emotion. Emotions that come in different forms and intensities that he can’t fully grasp because of confusing they become whenever he delves into them.

He sees it in these people who consider him a friend. He asks himself why everyday when he is about to close his eyes to feign sleep and pretend to be until Taeil’s lights go off so he can sneak out to the balcony to drink his blood bag in peace.

He uses anemia as the excuse when he has a needle stuck in the vein at the crook of his elbow that leads the red liquid into his veins when he is particularly uncomfortable with the lack of warmth. It doesn’t help him in his hunger but it helps with controlling it for the most part. He doesn’t question how the blood scatters through his body with the lack of a heart pumping it but there are things he has stopped questioning the day he became this.

Sicheng picks up his bag from where he placed it, fishing for his mobile as he unlocks it to send a message about his progress to Kyungsoo. The elder is probably cooking a feast in his worry especially how he had said that Jaehyun is not backing off even after Sicheng tried to show how disinterested he was.

“Flowers. Store-bought and not like the ones that sparkle in your garden. Mark is curious. Keep safe.” he says his text out loud to no one as he enters his room. Neat and tidy, his bed is on the farthest corner pushed to the wall and his desk is next to it away from the window he always kept the blinds shut. Sunlight wasn’t the same for him, ill effects diluted over how many others were sired before him and sun on his skin did feel like being burnt if not for the salve Kyungsoo made for him. Fae had healing properties he wanted to study but the way the elder kept all his faerie books away from him made him realize he shouldn’t touch knowledge not of his kind.

He slings his bag over one of the posts of his bed, not minding to grab any of his books to check if he has any notes. It’s not his forte to read when there isn’t anything interesting and as much as the laws of physics described fascinated him, science was something he knew but never understood. Human concepts that make sense but with limited understanding.

Sicheng buries himself into the mattress, wondering how long he has until he becomes humane like his sire.

 

 

 

The first memory he has of his so-called rebirth is the smell of longing.

It was funny to him that he knew what it was despite never feeling it, let alone putting a smell to it. Back then, he had been kept in a cot of some obscure warehouse waiting for the war to finally stop and be freed of the humiliating feeling of not bathing and eating properly for months. It was a blurry memory punctuated with the cloudy scent of urine, blood and feces that resembled a pig’s pen with how pungent it became when the heat hit. Treated like animals, he was on the verge of bleeding his life away after cutting his wrist on a wayward rusted nail he didn’t see when he fought over the railings for a piece of molded bread. There is a sense of apathy that came with the realization that death is easier than the cruelty life is giving him and he relaxes to the thought

There was screaming as he closed his eyes, dreams having sounds of choked breaths and disconcerted laughter. Then teeth on his skin as a tongue lapped at the crimson drying on it.

Sicheng doesn’t recall it hurting. But he assures that it’s nothing like the physical pain he went through, beatings and lashings nothing but mosquito bites and pale in comparison vampire venom entered his system. He couldn’t recall because when he did, his body trembled and his stomach wanted to empty its contents at the sheer idea. Being eaten alive from within was what his sire explained, eyes glimmering at the memory.

He woke up with his mouth stuffed with cotton and the smell he could identify as aged books doused in lavender that he labeled as longing. In front of him was a petite man with neat black hair reading a letter in his gloved hands, dark eyelashes hooded over darker eyes that looked at the paper with intensity that didn’t fit the whole picture.

Sicheng remembers his first words to his sire, something the other had been waiting for. “Why am I not dead?”

The man closes his eyes, sighing. “Death isn’t any better. I suggest you find better ways of escape other than suicide. A waste of blood if you ask me,” The letter is set aside as he takes a chalice and offers it to Sicheng with a look that suggests boredom “Drink.”

He obeys as the rim is pushed to his lips and he tastes copper before he smells it, thick and warm as it slides down his throat. Sicheng coughs at the liquid splashing at his windpipe by accident and the familiar aftertaste of iron makes him dizzy.

The man is satisfied as he removes the chalice and places it back on the table, face unreadable as he addresses him again “What do you want to be called?”

Sicheng can’t understand the question at first, still trying to decipher what he drank and his mouth moves on its own to say “Sicheng.”

The man scoffs in disbelief “Your attachment to your humanity is intact. The more I bite, the more the change becomes unpredictable.” he stands and rummages through his coat pockets for something.

“Who-”

“I have many names. But as I am your maker, I am referred as such. Others call me sire but because they are not as lenient as I am.”

Sicheng is confused at this man’s attitude, looking so young but his manner of speaking is older than he appears to be and he can’t comprehend with the pain starting to form in his head. “Name?”

“Hm, alright because you drank the blood instead of throwing it at me,” there’s another scent in the air that Sicheng picks up, pleasant sweetness that has a crisp undertone that he realizes ten years after is nostalgia “My name is Luhan.”

 

 

 

“Hey, hey. How was philosophy?”

Sicheng smiles as politely as he could as Jaehyun slides into the seat next to his with the look of glee in his face that makes him appear younger. Maybe his trips to study in the library is becoming predictable, schedule becoming known to everyone and giving them an excuse to corner him when he should be avoiding them.

“Good. Fallacy is interesting.” It wasn’t, the idea of committing such things to the point even what everyone thinks is normal becomes questionable to what philosophers had set is ridiculous. He read of handwritten laws from these people in his maker’s library, Luhan laughing at how humans always wanted to bend anyone their short lives can touch and contort their ideals to impact a society that has more chances of rotting.

Jaehyun is good-looking, kind eyes and easy smile that emphasizes his fair cheeks while he carries the aura of a responsible adult. He is nice enough to help Sicheng in their cooking class, coming to his side when the other forgot to wash his vegetables and was about to cut right into an unpeeled onion. It’s chivalrous until Sicheng thinks that he is not a maiden or in the Victorian times.

“Hey! Let’s go for ice cream this week. There’s a new flavor you need to try.”

The bribe of ice cream makes Sicheng perk up and he almost agrees because it is his favorite past time to gorge on anything cold and sweet that comes in unlimited flavors. Perhaps the novelty on said treat makes him feel some sort of satisfaction but he thinks about his plans and sighs, noting the hopeful(too hopeful) gleam in Jaehyun’s eyes. “Kun- _gege_ needs me to come with him and I need to buy things where we’re going.”

Jaehyun slumps on his seat like a deflated balloon, enthusiasm leaving him altogether. “Oh, I see.”

Sicheng smiles, tight-lipped but making no move to comfort him. Fickle and easy to hurt. His maker knew what he was talking about when he explained about humanity.

Jaehyun then straightens, determined. “Next time then?”

Fickle and stubborn. Humanity and their attachment to hope that never goes away.

“Maybe.”

 

 

 

Luhan never told him what he was or what Sicheng has become.

His other siblings as he had begun to call them had different opinions on their kind and it rose a debate before one of them asked Luhan himself. The girl disappeared afterwards and the man in question led them to the ballroom where he sat at the top of the stairs and the girl's body is hanging on the crystal chandelier dripping blood down the diamond encrusted beads.

“We go by many names as I told you before. Pureblood is what I’ve considered as the closest and while we are called different names, it’s what humans carelessly label us. Nosferatus, bloodsuckers, vampires? I care not for these names. Don’t think too much because you are all just fledgelings.”

No one brought it up ever again. The girl’s blood dripping from the ceiling was enough of a warning. Because as much as they can almost call their sire father, he was not one for human affections.

That’s what he thought.

 

 

Yuta smiles at him when he is texting Kyungsoo about visiting for the weekend. “Oh? Boyfriend?”

His classmate bumps into him, a popular Thai boy who goes by Ten, that he says a quick apology to before he looks at Yuta unimpressed. “Family.”

A hum of acknowledgement is what he gets as they walk to their next class, Yuta looking like he’s contemplating something. “Does your mom know how you’re doing with being single and holed in the dorm?”

“Doesn’t care.” Well, Kyungsoo might nag about how Sicheng is too careful that he will slip up one day and everything will be a repeat of changing schools and identity. Like a game of roulette but with the world as the choices he has to pick. “What if my parents were nonconventional?”

Yuta gasps. amazed. “Wow, Sicheng! That’s a good sentence! I’m proud of your progress.” he means it, as a Japanese student who is better at Korean than everyone believes Sicheng is. It’s his responsibility to show Sicheng that despite the nationality he can still fit in.

Sicheng smiles at him but Yuta doesn’t answer his question and they part when Sicheng arrives at his classroom and Yuta has to tutor his friend Hansol in chemistry.

 

 

 

Luhan takes him around Beijing when his siblings are all out doing their own things, not questioning why he took Sicheng out instead of the older children he sired. It’s not spoken much but everyone believes that as he is the youngest, they have considered the possibility he would be the most favoured. Sicheng rarely upset Luhan, opting to read and hide away under a section of his personal library where no one could touch him as he went through Dante’s Inferno to understand the concept of Hell after one of the older children began screaming at him to go there and take his humanity with him. A refreshing change to the blatant avoidance of his presence but one of the household rules was no fighting. Another one lost and Sicheng is unfazed. 

“Hm. Is there anything you need to say?” Luhan is good at using a tour as an excuse to have a private conversation with him. The elder picks up a book with foreign letters, lavender threatening to flood his scent as he passes it to Sicheng.

Reading only the word dictionary on the cover, he frowns. “This-”

“You’ll enjoy Korean. Best to start early.”

There are no more words exchanged as Luhan navigates through the crowded streets like a madman with a tight grip around Sicheng’s wrist right on the healing scar where he marked him. When they arrived home,one of his siblings shook their head when he saw the Chinese-Korean dictionary tucked under his arm.

“Always missing his first born, typical. Everyone is expected to learn that so study well or Sire us going to cut you off.”

He can’t help the tentative “First born?” that slips out his mouth.

“His first turn. The eldest per say. His Favorite that he uses as a basis on how we all should act and you fit.”

Sicheng realizes in this hierarchy, the middle child gets ignored as the eldest rebels and the attention is turned to the youngest. His nose scrunches at the basis that Luhan was fit to be described as a parent.

“Not really.” He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince more, himself or everyone else.

 

 

He’s walking through the streets of Hongdae, nose buried in his scarf that should be making him sweat under the summer heat but he needed to hide the rashes when he forgot to apply salve and a noise outside his window made him peek through his binds to let sunlight hit his neck. 

Taeil threw a scarf at him, yelling “What bit you last night?” and he narrowed his eyes at him because it was ridiculous he would sleep around with his exams around the corner. The notion of sleeping around is something he doesn’t have interest in after years of solitude.

The display glass of the stores he passes by shows a blurry figure of red and brown that is supposed to be his silhouette and he’s engrossed in his thoughts when he hits someone in the shoulder as he passes. The impact is enough to make the stranger stumble and Sicheng turns when he hears a flurry of English curses from him.

“Sorry.” he mutters.

“Look where you’re going next time.” the other bites back in an accented Korean like his own except instead of the wisps of his Chinese heritage, it’s the smooth American tone he can hear sometimes when he is with Jaehyun or Mark.

Sicheng takes a look at him and before the other realizes, he says a slow “Good day.” that doesn’t match his fast walk away.

He hears the male say something but he hopes it’s not recognition.

His phone goes off as he sits at the very back of the bus for Seoul and he answers it.

“Hello, _hyung_? I’m going back to the dorm, don’t worry.”

There is a sigh of relief from the other line before a smooth voice can be heard “Sicheng, it’s too warm out. Your salve stash is not going to cut it if you keep going out for useless things.”

Ever the worried mother he denies he is, Kyungsoo’s tone melts away the tense feeling he had from his encounter and chuckles, “Visiting you this weekend, remember? They made up some school retreat for teachers about team building.”

“Team building should be in the mountains and not in an expensive hotel with casinos.” Sicheng laughs again when the bus passes a large sign with an advertisement for a luxurious getaway package.

Kyungsoo loved nature, something all faes ingrained in their roots despite the centuries of modern technology incorporated in their lives at this point. Maybe because he is of the house guardian kind where he is the very definition of a housewife with how he cooks, cleans and tends to his little house away from prying eyes. But if the elder heard him call him that, there would be a hand slapping his arm in seconds flat.

“Don’t forget to bring me seeds alright? Drink well and don’t force yourself to eat because of people need to see you do so to stop suspicion,” A pause then a hiss. He must be frying some fish he caught again. “Be careful with your routine.”

It was almost like magic, Sicheng muses as he steps off the bus with smoke clinging to him when he gets into the combustion exhale of black cloud. Kyungsoo always knew about him and it’s comforting. “Coincidence is all. Met someone but don’t know when.”

He waves back at Hansol’s greeting and walks towards his dorm through the dirt path to give him more privacy because Kyungsoo might become busy again to call him again. There is a lot in his mind as he lives the life of some college teenager juggling human things like studies and social circles that he ends up dumping them on poor Kyungsoo who doesn’t care enough to explain because it is tiring when faes try to comprehend humanity. But time is a concept both of them agree that seems to impact too much and chose to avoid.

“Bygones are bygones, Sicheng. You were unmemorable before and they’ll forget.”

He hopes Kyungsoo’s instincts can’t catch the sinking feeling in his stomach as he says that.

 

 

Being different is what pushed him to survive the massacre.

His perceived humanity when he cried after seeing his sire come home bloodied but free of wounds was something no one understood except Luhan. Under his coat that is soiled with the blood of an old acquaintance that challenged him, he stares at the tears streaking down the younger’s cheek before throwing a rag at him.

“Wipe yourself. You are not a baby, act your age. Are you sad about me? What for?”

“I don’t know.” is his answer as he rubs his cheek with the cloth; nose flooded with the salty scent of his tears and makes him sneeze. Sicheng can’t help ask why he felt such heaviness in his chest when he thought his sire was injured.

Luhan doesn’t know either and Sicheng is forced to stomach the mingling scents of tears and longing throughout dinner.

The next week, he is alone and the room he stayed in is streaked with blood as a body is at the foot of his bed. Black liquid stains his white sheets that imprint on his bare calf; he rushes outside to find Luhan and the others in his pajamas while the scent of coagulated blood covers the whole house.

“This apartment was a lie. Everyone was a fabrication. Oh, how I miss the feeling of bones breaking and blood on my hands.”

Those are the words Luhan is murmuring as he sits on his antique chair cradling a wine glass in his stained fingers and fangs illuminated by the glow of the light fixed over him.

“Sire?” he asks, eyes darting to the bodies of his siblings with their throats ripped out and torsos mutilated to let their intestines dangle out of their bodies. “What is-”

Luhan stands and is by his side in a second, serene smile on his face. He grabs Sicheng’s wrist where he bit him many years ago and dragged him to the balcony to look at the hues of orange that mingled with the smoke and pollution of the area.

“Do you remember what I told you about yesterday?” his tone is sickly sweet, nails digging down the skin around Sicheng’s wrist like he wants to pull it off from the bone and pushes him to the ledge where the younger can look at the dots of cars speeding below. 

Sicheng does, the hardbound leather book dumped on his lap the night before made him fall to his feet and Luhan looms over his crumpled form with a blank look. His words before he left him were “Read this and sleep. It’s a journal from an old friend that could prove useful to you. Don’t wake up early because I’m letting you oversleep.”

Sicheng doesn’t necessarily sleep but when his body is still adapting to the feeling of foreign liquids by making his insides feel like churning magma, sleeping it off is the closest relief he can get. He is too busy fighting off the disturbing sound of his bones cracking when he breaks his wrist and it knits back to shape enough that he can forget his stomach to hear the screaming as his siblings die.

It’s a slap to the face, eyes wide as he looks at Luhan who is absolutely drowning in lavender and touches of ash that he chokes out “You miss him.”

Nails come to sink on his veins and he is aware of the sharp pressure on his marked wrist. “You were the only one after him to have any abilities, Sicheng. Maybe you were always the one who would help me.” Luhan is whispering and he winces at something before he pulls a pocket knife out of his sleeve.

“Do something for me as a favor after reviving you. Find him.”

Sicheng only screams as silver cuts his only connection to Luhan as hot blinding pain jolts his entire body before he is pushed off the balcony.

And he understands as the blurry image of Luhan fades in the distance but he still smells the tears from his maker’s eyes.

 

 

 

“Yo, my man Sicheng!” Mark greets him when he enters the art department to hand over his overdue painting, the younger carrying bags of take-out that makes him cringe and latches his free hand around Sicheng’s arm.

“Need help?” he points at the greasy brown bags and adjusts his bag strap around his shoulder when the younger shakes his arm with too much enthusiasm.

Mark shakes his head, smiling wide. “I do but not with these.”

This makes Sicheng’s eyebrow raise. “Okay?” Asking help for Mark is basically like a slave contract in the making because he will insist he can’t do it himself and before anyone realizes it after he has talked his way through, you have done all his work on your own. Donghyuk and Yuta often fall victim to this but Mark does it for fun than real laziness. There’s no harm at the most.

“There’s this good beef brisket menu I want to eat but I’m not allowed inside the restaurant anymore. Old man who owns it complained how I flooded the stalls and banned me and Haechan.”

“Find another one that sells.”

“But the thing is there’s a promo! The legendary TY beef menu is back and no one’s sure when it will sell out but I don’t wanna find out! Yuta ate some and said it was enough to make his knees weak!” Mark yells, voice echoing through the halls that makes several people look their way.

Sicheng sighs, noting how oil is starting to make the take-out bags’ bottom corners soiled and looks at the expectant look on Mark’s face. “When?”

Mark is whooping so loud the teacher comes out the other room to scold him.

 

That’s how he finds himself waiting in a bustling restaurant, jacket making him comfortable against the hard wood of the chairs at the waiting dock for his order of braised beef open-grilled and coated in an array of secret spices that aid in the texture and flavor of the meat. It was how the cheery cashier worded his order before ripping the paper she wrote on and handing it to the back where a huge grilling station is, gave Sicheng a number slip and that they would call him when it’s done.

He knows he will have the scent of smoke clinging to him at the end of the night.

There are a lot of people eating inside, chattering amongst themselves and he finds the noises of clanging pots and porcelain mingling into a jumbled mess with the sounds making a pollution of the atmosphere, hoping he doesn’t look like he is being trampled by it all.

He focuses on the menu hanging in boards overhead, TY Beef making him remember something from an old high school he needed to attend to be able to look like he underwent proper education and have Kyungsoo stop nagging him about interacting with people to act like them, the hypocrite. He was considered weird because he looked older than most his peers but he merely stated it was early puberty, his uniform fitting him poorly.

The letters TY remind him of a deep raspy voice rapping along as someone plays the piano in the background, dark hair bobbing with his head moving and intense eyes that made Sicheng wonder if this was why Luhan found humans fascinating.

But the memory is pushed to the back of his mind, Kyungsoo’s nagging voice yelling bygones be bygones as Sicheng forgets the past lives he had to endure. Fragments of the humanity he made that should be left to the past.

Sicheng hates Mark for making him go to this stupid store and get his stupid TY beef that made him remember memories he shouldn’t entertain.

He stands, feeling a little numb as he walks up to the Receiving Area where everyone is yelling order after order to ask if his is done because he needs to pack for his trip to Kyungsoo’s and the bus is early tomorrow.

“TY Beef for Sicheng!”

Just in time, he muses and shuffles to the counter. He’s running a hand through his hair, wondering how Kyungsoo is going to react with the blonde strands Taeil dyed for him. Probably yell about harmful chemicals and use some of his aloe vera to regain the life peroxide drained his hair of and stare into his soul for his mistakes.

The man over the counter gives his bagged beef, muttering “You’re lucky you got the last batch because our cook’s done for the day.”

Sicheng nods as he thanks him, a movement at the corner of his eye making him stop for a moment.

“Winwin?”

He doesn’t look. Trying to register the blur of colors so he wouldn’t have to face whoever this was, the shock of white hair and black ensemble isn’t hitting any recognition and so he ignores it.

“I’ll be going.” Sicheng can hear footsteps approaching him and he’s speed walking away faster than he should as the other man who handed him his beef greeted the one calling for him.

He doesn’t look back. Not even when he shoved Mark’s order to him and headed straight to his dorm, drinking out of the blood packet messily as he feels almost sick to the stomach.

Smoke clings to him, he realizes and showers twice but as he collapses on his work desk to make his English project, the scent of affection lingers in his mouth that it’s choking him.

Lilies and summer rain that’s more intense than the normal scent of someone taking care of him.

It suffocates his lungs until morning.

 

 

Sicheng blanches when he sees a familiar figure amidst the crowd, brown hair moving as he bobbed his head to the music in his earphones. He was sure now that he didn’t have a chance when little things like these happen, coincidences that shouldn’t follow him like an old shadow and he wishes that he knew how to compel someone to forget his face. But it wasn’t his gift and he is stuck with keeping his head low to avoid looking at Johnny Seo in the face who is concentrating on his phone.

He keeps his grip on his bag tighter as he moves through the throng of people, getting closer to Johnny that he can almost brush past him and another collision with him is not what he wants. If there wasn’t a hint of recognition before, a second time wouldn’t be as lucky because Sicheng is wearing an old Alumni shirt that anyone can recognize right away.

They pass each other, Sicheng keeping his nonchalant expression as Johnny walks a few feet away from him. He huffs at the narrow escape, opening his bag to text Kyungsoo know about this as soon as possible and make an intervention that he didn’t have time to see anyone before him.

“Johnny! There you are!”

He collides with someone hard enough to make his grip on his bag loose, contents spilling out as Sicheng automatically kneels to grab them. Another hand joins his as they gather his notes and he raises his head to see Ten who looks apologetic.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”

Sicheng can’t blame him. “I wasn’t looking either.” He replies as he puts everything inside, intent on walking away while he still can but there’s the sound of footsteps behind him and an arm is dragging his shoulder that he looks at the owner without realizing.

Johnny is looking like he’s seen a ghost, disbelief making his face lose its color while his mouth is open. Ten looks at them, curious because Sicheng must looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh my god,” Johnny says in English, high-pitched at the revelation of Sicheng’s face. “Winwin?!”

“Wait, Winwin? Do you know each other, Sicheng?”

The one in question is looking at his classmate with wide eyes, darting back and forth from him to Johnny who then pulls out his phone. “I can’t believe this. Taeyong wouldn’t believe this. I need to call him over-“

Ten’s eyes widen as well. “Even Taeyong knows him?” he hits Sicheng with a light slap as if he’s trying to see if he’s still breathing. Little does he know he’s never breathed normally and air does nothing to Sicheng now except make him feel like it’s trying to constrict him. “Sicheng, why didn’t you say so?”

The familiar name sends his mind in overdrive, aware that this must what the universe had planed for him. Of course, the initials made sense and that the culinary expertise of someone like-

“I don’t know you.” he looks at Johnny, not pleading but asking for a favor he knows he doesn’t deserve. It’s a mess of scents between them and Sicheng curses himself because confusion is a suffocating miasma of dust and sourness that is mingling with the bitter smell of bubbling annoyance after he spoke those words.

Johnny is less pleased. They weren’t close but there is a familiarity that comes with being more than acquainted with his friend, transferring something that is akin to respect but not quite. Sicheng remembers how Johnny teases him that he could make someone do everything with just one word, a loud yell of protest always following before an ice cream cup is in his hand. “Are you seriously avoiding him after what he’s been through because of you?”

“Johnny, calm down.”

Sicheng doesn’t want to make this situation bigger than it should be. “You have the wrong person. My name is Dong Sicheng.” He tries to keep the calmest tone he can muster when he wants to run back into Kyungsoo’s house and never leave in fear that someone would come up to him from the past despite all that he’s done to make sure they didn’t. There were close calls but he’s never had a direct confrontation like this.

The laugh Johnny lets out is hollow and he’s doesn’t like how this is going downhill faster than he expected. “That’s rich. You always said that your family disliked you so much that they named you Winwin. You really want to play the stranger-danger game when we went to highschool together and after all Taeyong has done for you, you won’t face him like the coward I always thought you were.”

Ten is holding Johnny back when the latter looks like he’s ready to punch Sicheng. Their noise has attracted a crowd around them and from the looks of it the teachers are starting to make their way towards them. Ten looks at the commotion then back to Winwin. “Sicheng, can we talk to you in a more private setting?”

Sicheng doesn’t want to and he’s about to voice as much but there’s a pleading look on Ten’s face, probably not used to seeing Johnny so riled up over nothing and perhaps, this was easier. The faster he convinces him he’s no longer the Sicheng from his high school then the better.

“Okay.”

 

 

Sicheng, a few months after he is pushed into the real world without his sire, learns about humans and their effect on people from different races from a familiar face that he hasn’t seen since Luhan has made it clear that his nest wouldn’t be bothered with the issues that his old friend carried.

Xiumin was someone that didn’t fit to be vampire. Soft looks that almost rivaled Luhan’s with his full cheeks and twinkling eyes that always made him wonder how the elder could have lived knowing how his appearance was a little out of the norm in his kind, he left his family name and went with the moniker that Luhan had given him when they were younger. He travels through the country in search of excitement, glee almost overtaking him when he finds Sicheng inside a bus stop with clothes he stole from the man he preyed on when his hunger overcame him.

The dripping blood from the wound his fangs made that his tongue lapped on before sucking too much that the red liquid was overflowing out at the corner of his lips was something he didn’t understand but the bliss he felt through his body as the man slumped with his whites only visible in his eyes would be a feeling he want to experience again.

“Sicheng, I believe?” was what Xiumin greeted him with, draped in a long coat and carrying what seems to be gold plated case. His hair was in wild disarray, probably from the wind as Sicheng stood up. The younger could feel the hostility that’s thrumming around him but his nose, sharper to emotions that he can trust it better than his judgment implies, picks up a hint of curiosity and mockery, funny scents of black tea he used to find Luhan drinking and the stench of rot that makes him square his shoulders.

“It’s been a while, sir.” He replied, wary when the elder makes him walk beside him towards a car hidden in the corner. An older model but covered up with a new layer of paint at the front and Sicheng is about to ask when Xiumin beats him to it.

“It’s hard to pass of splatters as rust on white paint and I thought that it wouldn’t matter if I covered it with black. I’m sure Luhan would tell you how he loathes the burgundy and green theme with our previous bedroom that he considered clawing my eyes out if that would help me see well.”

Sicheng knows about Luhan’s past lovers, a stream of vampires his age that never seems to last longer than a week because of how the elder seems to easily flit through person to person. His attention to someone is limited, something Sicheng has now chalked up as the side effect of being too attached to someone who got away before he even had the chance to hold them. Xiumin was one of them albeit a former childhood companion whom he mingled with long enough that they reached a certain understanding that lust is not enough to build a longer companionship and broke it off for the better. They remained close friends, always updating each other through letters until the day that his sire burned the recent one with so much fury he never spoke about him again.

He voices it out. “He didn’t write to you anymore,” Sicheng mulls over the sentence before finishing, “How are you, sir?”

Xiumin waves him off as they settle inside the car, hair falling into his eyes that he brushes with the back of his hand. “Just call me gege, child. It’s not considered normal to call someone sir out here. As for Luhan, I can’t say I blame him for being hostile. He killed everyone except you and now is hiding back in his ancestral home to wait for your progress instead of just doing some grand gesture to take his first born back.”

“Why can’t he?”

“Because he can’t touch South Korean land without permission and he hasn’t been friendly with the council there after his attack on them, the idiot thought that abandoning their first turned child to the authorities was smart and look what he’s become. “

“Is that the reason you stopped communicating?”

Xiumin laughed, hollow sounding even to Sicheng’s ears as he drove into the dark streets. “No,” he looks at the younger for a moment before refocusing on the road. “I told him about my friend.”

The silence that followed was enough for Sicheng to wonder why Luhan would react to such a simple thing until the haunted look in Xiumin’s eyes made him realize the implications of what the elder said.

“Human?”

“Well, you can’t befriend food otherwise you’ll get attached.”

“Can you teach me?” Sicheng whispered, unsure on what he’s asking but from the brow raised on Xiumin’s face he elaborates what he wants. “Human living.”

“I have a different culture from what Luhan grew up with, Sicheng.” Xiumin explains, smiling a little as he sees Sicheng fidget at his seat. “Luhan has told you how he knew me when he was younger but he didn’t say from where. I was born in Korea but my family moved here to expand the nest and territory of the family name.”

Interesting, Sicheng thought to himself as he assessed the elder more. It is true with how his eyes seem less like the slant of the natives here and how his actions spoke of a different upbringing but nonetheless, they were made to adapt with whatever thrown to them and Xiumin looked like he’s doing that part well.

“First of all, you need to use a different name.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed but it makes it easier to pretend to be someone else when people realize you’re different from them. I switch my names many times when I travel and I suggest you do the same as a preliminary of your stay in human society.”

Sicheng nods even when he is still confused at the need for a name when he is content with his. It’s something that he had chosen without any preamble when Luhan asked, the elder’s comment on how he still clings to his humanity making him wonder if that is why he was thrown out the window.

“Is Xiumin not your name then?”

A shake of the head. “It’s what I use here in China. Better to blend in and all. I suggest you use something foreign to throw people off. A moniker of sorts.”

Sicheng thinks again for something but loses his train of thought when the car stops a good distance away from a beautiful house where there are people walking through the white porch. He turns to Xiumin who is keeping his eyes trained on everyone that walks out the door and he relaxes when a tall male with dark bags underneath his eyes walks out in a well-kept suit, holding a letter as he greets whoever is close to him. His dark hair was combed back and he looked mad about something with how his lips were set in a tight line.

“Xiumin-gege?” he tests the honorific as the elder looks at him and Sicheng smells vanilla and lemons, making his eyes widen as he looks back at the male who is now speaking with a woman. “Why are you-“

The elder’s face is cold but his smile is glued on his face to hide it as he continues looking. “Humans are really funny, aren’t they? They’re willing to believe they have power over people despite how weaker they are compared to every other beings present in this world. Prideful little things that can be both tempting and damning despite how mundane they are.” He grips harder on the steering wheel when the male presses a chaste kiss on the woman’s cheek before bidding goodbye and disappearing inside the house. The sour lemon scent is stronger now and it’s etched on Xiumin’s face, the look of irritation.

Sicheng pieces everything together. “He doesn’t belong to you?”

Xiumin flinches but presses into the gas pedal to let the car move again, Sicheng turning back to the house in time to see the male looking at their moving vehicle from the window. He wants to say something to Xiumin but the elder continues talking, “Why do you think so?”

“You smell infatuated but then the woman came near to him and you turned sour.” Sicheng explains.

“What are you? A werewolf?” Xiumin jokes like it was a serious question as they park inside an underground garage, moving out of the car as he walks faster than Sicheng can comprehend. Still, he runs to match the steps the elder is making.

“I can smell strong emotions.” It was his secondary gift of sorts, a heightened sense of smell that the chemicals released by the body triggered by any instinct can be detected and helps him assess the situation.

“Close enough.”

In the end, as they stay underground in time for the sun to rise, Sicheng finds a notebook with win-win situation written inside and in a moment of boredom, tells Xiumin to call him Winwin.

It stuck to him for years to come.

 

 

It was unfair how Ten had managed to rope Yuta into this discussion, Johnny pointedly waiting for him to start explaining how he was right and that Sicheng was avoiding them in fear of bringing up the past. The four of them were sitting inside an empty classroom that Yuta was monitoring thus he had to be part of this conversation and the way the Japanese male looked at them, foreigners who looked like there was some gossip ready to be spilled as well as Sicheng being there made him all the more curious at the predicament.

Ten clears his throat, looking at Sicheng. “Sicheng, I don’t know much about how you fit into this but-“ Johnny mumbles something underneath his breath and Sicheng’s nose picks up the scent of lemons that makes him roll his eyes. “I assure you Johnny wouldn’t be this angry if it weren’t for a reason.”

Oh, Sicheng knows that and it makes him want to throw himself out the window at how ridiculous this was. “He’s mistaking me for someone else.” He says in his basic Korean, keeping his Chinese accent lilt into the vowels when he can and turns to Johnny with the blankest face he can muster “I assure you, this is the first time we met.”

The face Johnny makes is something of a cross between disgusted and ready to fight because his mouth is set in a snarl and his eyebrows are disappearing into his hairline. “And you look like you didn’t age at all but who am I kidding.” The sarcasm is still present in Johnny even after four years, stronger that he sounds reckless and Sicheng hates it.

Yuta puts a hand on Sicheng’s shoulder as if to comfort him. “You sure? I mean, he seems like he really does know you?”

“I don’t know him.”

Johnny stands up with a scoff. “You’re wearing my school’s Alumni shirt. It wasn’t distributed outside the senior class because of the lack of materials.”

Sicheng grows cold as he realizes what Johnny is implying. He can’t say it’s from someone from the school because Johnny will ask who and probably bring his yearbook if he needs to and he knows that saying it was given to him by someone would yield the same result because he doesn’t know anyone else from the senior year. His options were narrowing and he doesn’t know what’s worse: that Johnny will expose him or that he’ll tell Taeyong.

But Sicheng recalls Kyungsoo’s face when he came home covered in bruises and looking like his arm was mangled beyond recognition, the scolding he took as he is healing from the physical pain while the elder used his herbs to aid the process and the warning that rang through his ears about Kyungsoo locking him inside a coffin to let him sleep until the people involved died after many years. It was the worst situation Kyungsoo has seen him endure and he doesn’t want to go through that again, being weighed down with the sickening scent of disappointment. He doesn’t see a loophole around this but right now, Ten is holding his shoulder to stop him from shaking and Yuta is whispering words of comfort when he noticed the blank look overcoming his face, probably assuming that Sicheng didn’t fully understand the words with how fast Johnny had said them.

It’s a mess and he wants to get out of it. Perhaps it was the way the situation is playing that made him think of it, a flash of outrageous that he doesn’t dwell on before he opens his mouth to seal his demise.

“If I meet with him and he tells you I am not Winwin, will you believe me?”

The room is silenced enough Sicheng can hear their individual breathing and he continues digging himself deeper to escape the situation at hand. Regret is something he doesn’t have luxury for right now with the circumstances.

Johnny looks skeptical, eyebrows furrowed at him as he crosses his arms. Sicheng just knows what he’s thinking and he almost groans when Johnny voices it out.

“Taeyong would believe anything you say with that face. He won’t hesitate and he wouldn’t realize how he’s being played when bat those eyes and play the fool.”

“That’s harsh, Johnny!”

“Ten, you don’t know anything so please don’t interfere,” Johnny says shooting an apologetic look towards him before he sighs “Winwin, the game is up. Taeyong needs to talk to you.”

There’s a sudden ruckus outside the room, a well-dressed teacher entering the door with a confused look at the youngsters huddling like they’re scheming something up. His eyes move from Johnny and Ten to Sicheng and Yuta before he says “I need this classroom?”

Johnny looks ready to protest, almost grabbing Sicheng who’s making a beeline to the door but Ten holds him in time because they’re late for their meeting with Taeyong and Sicheng is hellbent on walking out of this conversation.

It’s only apparent when Johnny stares at the closed door where Sicheng has made his exit for the thought to settle and he has no other choice but change his plans.

 

 

“What?” Kyungsoo screams the moment he explains what happened, eyes wider than normal as Sicheng picks at the threads of his sweater looking like he’s conflicted. He managed to escape Taeil’s prying questions when he didn’t sleep over their dorm, opting to just take his suitcase of clothes he set for his visit to Kyungsoo’s with him and leaving the evening prior. He chose to pick a route that he knew none of the others would know about so as to sneak quietly without the chance of having another unexpected meeting. The bus ride was at 6 AM, too early for the weekend to which he utilized by texting the elder about the complication that arose in summary as he promised to explain it better when he is in the house.

Sicheng, sitting on the chair beside the tree stump where Kyungsoo kept faerie tomes, sighs. “Hyung, I’m sorry.”

The smaller man is shuffling between his kitchen island, fingers stroking his chin in thought. “You do realize how much Lee Taeyong knows about you. Not even the dragon’s ash I threw at him to make him easier to fool that you didn’t do anything out of the ordinary is enough to make him forget about you and I’ve been told the after effects might trigger his memories,” There is a beat of hesitation in his step before he spins around to face Sicheng with a huff “Why haven’t you killed him when he is the closest to being a threat to you, again? Are you in love with him?”

There is no joke to be heard but Sicheng’s laughter rings through the air as he bends over, holding his stomach. Kyungsoo’s face turns blank but the boy then waves a hand as if dismissing the notion of loving someone. “Oh, hyung. It’s not that human of a reason.”

Sicheng will admit that Taeyong was a very crucial part of the schema he made during the years in that high school. He didn’t want to play off as that mysterious looking kid with a weird name who avoids people like a plague brooding in a corner with their eyes glued to some old book. Sicheng has tried that before and it was funny how much people went to him for advice on how to summon demons to the point they’d stalk him to his apartment back then. So instead, he opted to play a different approach and Taeyong was the one who kept it flourishing.

Student council member Lee Taeyong who went out of his way to greet him when he got out of his first class, explaining how the principal would be giving out guides for students like Winwin through the school so they wouldn’t get lost, unaware that the latter had enough knowledge about the layout with his careful research. Back then, Sicheng noted how well Taeyong dressed with his uniform wrinkle-free and round specs on the bridge of his nose that contrasted with his eyes. Dark eyes intensified by thick brows, giving him a look that was fit for some bad boy instead of this smiling boy who is reaching out his hand to him.

He mulled over what to say back, wincing at the sudden spike of vanilla in the air and shakes the other’s hand, “Are you mine?” he says, not minding how it’s the wrong context to use because Taeyong only nods.

“Yes, I’m yours.”

Sicheng doesn’t know if Taeyong merely pitied him because he thought he didn’t have much knowledge in Korean thus letting the mistake slide away. In fact, he continued acting like the guide he is by dragging Sicheng through the halls while pointing out places as the other pretended like he was amazed at what he was talking about. It could have been the wide eyed stare he made throughout the tour, looking at Taeyong with every bit of awe he can fake as they spoke slow enough that Taeyong can make Sicheng understand or even the laughter he made when Taeyong stumbled on the stairs because some students were rushing up the halls to get to class but after that, Taeyong is there with him every step of the way like some guardian he didn’t need but nonetheless humored. It is this very reason why he doesn’t want to see Taeyong now, with his abrupt change in appearance where it was still evident he didn’t grow older and the grandfather complex Taeyong held for people he seemed to consider close to him would make him nag Sicheng with countless questions unless Sicheng forces him to shut up.

Sicheng brings himself back to the current situation, hand cradling his chin as he says “If it was that simple as human love, I would have long considered killing him.”

Kyungsoo raises a brow at him but throws his hands up to the air. “What are you going to do? I told you before, haven’t I? If you meet him again, then-”

Sicheng lurches out of his seat, a constant vibration in his pocket shocking him. He holds a hand up to signal Kyungsoo for a moment before he pulls out his phone, hating how he forgot to shut it off and the caller ID is flashing Ten’s name. He waits for it to ring for a few more minutes, finger hovering over the end call button and he sighs in relief when it ends already. However, he miscalculates his timing when he presses the power button and his eyes narrow when he hears a click and a voice from the other end speaks.

“Dong Sicheng?” the timbre is too familiar to both of them, Kyungsoo’s breath catching in panic and Sicheng’s grip tightens. They share a look, eyes often drifting to the phone that had turned silent for a few seconds before the speaker continues. “I’m sorry for this but-Ten, why are you giving me this-”

There’s a crackling noise and the muffled yelling of “Talk to him! Johnny made me call him!” and “It’s him. I’ve seen it with my own eyes!” mingling and Sicheng is still rendered motionless to say anything, mind churning at how he’s starting to slip with his escape routes as well as how Kyungsoo isn’t helping him end his misery by hijacking the phone lines (he’s done it once to stop the email he made high on nectar and wine filled with romantic acrostic poems about someone that was unfortunately sent to the one he wrote about, his mysterious friend who he calls Kai).

There is an audible crinkle probably from adjusting their phone to their ear and the speaker continues “Look, I don’t know the full story but my friend is convinced you’re an old schoolmate of mine from high school that I needed to talk to and I’m sorry for the trouble. Johnny probably cornered you and started telling you off but he means well. He likes helping people.”

Sicheng snorts, the conversation has already been established despite him not saying anything but his little sound was heard and laughs after him. “It’s the wrong number.”

“You sound like him,” Sicheng wants to roll his eyes at how awestruck the other voice is “But that’s really a long shot because Winwinie has been missing for years. I thought I saw him when I was on my job but it couldn’t be-”

He’s on his instincts, ending the call abruptly and turning his phone off before he threw the offending device over to Kyungsoo who catches it with a flourish even if he is still slack-jawed at the exchange.  The elder looks at Sicheng for a few silent moments and then moves to the cupboard where he kept his best herbs and tea leaves, knowing well what both of them needed.

“I don’t think a cup of blood would calm you for the storm brewing.”

 

 

Sicheng’s job was to find the first born. He’s spent most of his time adjusting to people to control the urges, the sweet scent of blood making him dizzy and afraid because he has never drank directly from the source in a long time. The man he killed was the first, lost in the hypnotic beat of his heart pumping fresh blood through his veins. Xiumin noted that, opting to take Sicheng to social gatherings he was invited to under the guise of a wealthy jack of all trades and introducing the younger as his estranged cousin’s son visiting. Sicheng who kept quiet as Xiumin mingled with them, pretending to drink wine but only taking little sips so as to not upset his stomach and as the night would progress, Sicheng also notes how the elder’s eyes drifted to someone familiar who had their arm around a woman. He doesn’t need to ask because the strong lemon scent hitting his nose is enough of an answer despite the smile plastered on Xiumin’s face.

This is what reminds Sicheng of his lack of knowledge, the blank he drew when he thought about the sibling they never met but still regarded highly. Luhan who spoke nothing about this person but still managing to convey the importance and care he held for him with his actions. The faraway look that sometimes crossed his face when he is in deep thought, the smell of nostalgia that always came when he is trying to teach him Korean and the letter. The letter Sicheng accidentally read one time when he was looking for a piece of paper to write on.

Imagine his surprise when he found it, crumpled under the desk in Luhan’s study and when he straightened it in the confines of his room, the contents made him abandon what he was supposed to do. The words were smeared, written in ink that held too much water and the splatters of wine on it suggested this was written when Luhan was having one of those moods where he locked himself with two bottles of wine and blood and playing his own form of Russian Roulette with them.

_To the child I’ve lost and never forgotten, my deepest regret is that you lived against your will and I gave you a gift when all you wanted was death. Perhaps your karma for treating me as if you could understand me the way humans do is to live everyday knowing I took away what could have been your salvation. But if you were to haunt me, it is only fair I would carve my existence onto you._

Those were the only words there, filled with a desperate longing that coincided with hatred it sounded like some plea for help. Calling out for someone who can’t hear him and it only made Sicheng curious.

Because humans, who live for such short spans, leave them with centuries ahead scars that can be ignored but never mended.

He asks Xiumin about the first born one Winter night, holding a candle that dripped hot wax onto his skin and barely flinching at the searing sensation that came. “The first born. Tell me about him.”

The elder turns to him, lips on the rim of his mug and raises a brow. “Didn’t Luhan ever tell you?”

Sicheng turns his hand, palm up to catch the dripping wax and shakes his head.

Xiumin laughs, taking a gulp of his drink before setting the mug down. “Hm. Hard to say how much Luhan was attached to him. At that time, I thought he was playing around with humans so much he basically made them his chess pieces. He went to South Korea to meet up with the council to set the loose ends of the treaty together,” Xiumin clicked his tongue “His first born from what I heard was ill and dying, accepting his inevitable end. To Luhan who liked seeing people fight back, thought it was boring. You never can be sure what he wanted to achieve turning him but he’ll never tell.”

“Is he angry at you because you’re following his mistake of getting attached to a human?” Sicheng asks, curling his hand to let the dried wax crumble in his palm.

“He’d be a hypocrite to think that way. I like to think that he hates the idea of me having him so close all I need to do is manipulate him into seeing my side of the bargain.”

“Manipulate?”

“Oh, boy. It’s what makes humans putty in your hands. Shower them with charm and affection to the point it is too much and they’ll be eating at the palm of your hand. How Luhan didn’t think of using that on his firstborn is the very reason he lost him.”

Sicheng doesn’t ask about the strange glint in Xiumin’s eyes, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes overcoming his face before he decided to change the subject. It was inevitable that he would resort to such a thing with the moral compass Xiumin is lacking and his frustration with the human who seems like he doesn’t see how Xiumin looks at him. He’s found himself moving out of the elder’s way whenever he got into moods where he seems to be planning for a kidnapping, ropes and an arranged room being readied he once saw during the times he got lost.

“Do you know his name? It would be a good place to start other than him being a Korean native.”

Xiumin snickered as if he expected that from him and he held his mug up again to make some sort of toast at Sicheng.  “Of course it would be like that,” he took a deep breath ” Sehun. His name was Sehun.”

 

                                                                                                             


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> babysitter au with child! winwin feat. johnny

Sicheng was crying when he arrived.

Taeyong almost dropped the ice cream he had brought for him as he rushed over to the living room where the small boy was hugging Johnny with tears in his eyes. The elder had hunched over to properly wrap his arms around the boy that barely reached his thigh and had sat on his knees to be able to get Sicheng’s head on his chest to protect him.

There were two thoughts that came into Taeyong’s mind: one, why was Sicheng crying and two, why was Johnny here? His instincts flared at what he perceived as a threat and he forcibly set them apart, Sicheng’s wailing turning louder and Johnny looking like he’s about to curse at him as he fell to his butt.

Taeyong gathered the boy into his arms and held his head to his shoulder, glaring down at the elder. “What the fuck is going on?” Sicheng started to struggle and his cries were louder than before that Taeyong is afraid that he might have scared him.

Johnny scoffed, standing up and moving to grab Sicheng by the shoulder. The boy immediately turned to him with his arms outstretched to grab Johnny’s shoulders that he scrambled over into his arms much to Taeyong’s dismay. Johnny heaved the boy by his knees so he could bury his face to the crook of his neck with his arms around him and turned to Taeyong with his cheek on the little boy’s black hair. “Now you’ve done it.”

Taeyong didn’t understand what he meant because he’s a little hurt at the way Sicheng just rejected him. He moved closer, hands hovering over the boy’s back but Sicheng just hugged Johnny’s neck tighter. “What’s wrong, Sicheng? Are you okay?”

Johnny rolled his eyes and patted the boy’s head to comfort him all the while sending Taeyong annoyed looks. There really was nothing that Taeyong did that would warrant such a huge reaction from Sicheng and he just looked helplessly at the taller for a sign on what to do. He hated it when Johnny would act as if everything was obvious to Taeyong when it came to Sicheng but he just brought the boy ice cream and he came home to this? What was he supposed to know?

“Sicheng? Do you want to talk to Taeyong?” Johnny whispered as he petted the boy and Sicheng shook his head.

“What do you want to do?” Sicheng leaned up to whisper to Johnny’s ear and the latter nodded as he used an arm to support Sicheng’s body while he held out his other hand in front of Taeyong “Hand over the ice cream.”

Taeyong rose a brow. “What did he say?”

Sicheng whined a “No, don’t tell” and shook Johnny back and forth that made him laugh at the younger. He nodded once more and turned to Taeyong with a teasing grin. “Sorry. He doesn’t want me to tell you.”

“I’m not giving this ice cream.”

“Fair game. I’ll just to take him to the nearest ice cream parlor,” Johnny’s smile widened “And you’ll have to eat that.”

Taeyong wasn’t in the mood for ice cream today and the thought that he’d eat what was originally for Sicheng alone made him give it over even when he wanted to know why Sicheng was mad at him. His eyes were looking at the boy longingly, missing the times where he’d be greeted with wide smiles and tight hugs that he’d need to carry Sicheng along wherever he went. They were the closest out of everyone and here he was, sad that a child rejected him for Johnny who he hasn’t even known for quite long.

He’s not jealous. It’s just unfair.

Sicheng raised his head, looking over his shoulder at Taeyong with those pretty eyes that Taeyong could almost liken to stars twinkling in the night or some poetic blabber and whispered something to Johnny again with a small hand cupping beside his mouth. Johnny nodded and he said to Taeyong. “He’s mad you left the store before him.”

Taeyong rose a brow and gasped when he recalled that yes, Sicheng did say something before he left but he thought it was the ice cream flavor he wanted. “Oh, I’m so sorry-“

“And he even tied his shoes like a big boy to show you but you already left,” Johnny tutted, placing a kiss on top of Sicheng’s head when the boy leaned closer to him “Kept yelling that Yongyong-hyung hates him now and so Janjan-hyung is now his favorite.”

Taeyong cringed a little. “Janjan?”

“That’s me. Hello, former favorite hyung.” Johnny turned around and walked away with both the ice cream and Sicheng who peeked over Johnny’s shoulder to wave at Taeyong.

Well, looks like Taeyong has to win back Sicheng then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wild thought of child winwin saying yongyong and janjan in the cutest voice inspired this


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prequel (serial killer au)

Cold is what hits him first.

Then the goose bumps that crawl up his arms that feel uncomfortable with the fleece sweater he chose to wear for today.

He shivers at nothing, an imaginary wind that blows against his ear sounding suspiciously like someone’s voice. Dulcet and deep that betrays the sinister whisper that follows, little intonations  of “You’re doing so well,” and “Good, good” in a rising and falling pitch that made it sound like it was so farther away than he thought.

His palms are sweaty now even when there are still traces of wetness from where he seemed to have missed with the towel. His eyes are getting blurry, looking down at the haze where his hands seem to have been splitting into two smoky parts before he dug the heels of his palms onto his eyes to get rid of the image.

There’s the smell of iron, the cloying aroma of vanilla from the hand sanitizer he found to hide the first scent but now it has dulled enough that it was mixing into some sick concoction that he found so familiar. He drops his hands to his lap, against the red-stained white towel that has become pink with how much he was scrubbing it on the sink and he looks up at the mirror to see himself.

Bloodshot eyes with dark bags from all those sleepless nights, lower lip bitten raw with how much he chewed on it in his panic that he only made it bleed and his shock of white hair that has been showing darker roots after he forgot to buy hair dye. His sweater is the only article of clothing he has changed along with his boxers because the last thing he wore was ruined. Just like the towel that is leaving imprints of water onto his bare thighs.

A mess, that’s what he looked like.

“- okay, I’m okay,” he chanted to himself, breathing heavily to calm his too fast heartbeat and counted from one to ten in his head. He managed to go beyond five before there’s a loud knock on the door that made him jolt upwards, eyes wide as he heard the sound of his little brother’s voice.

“Hyung! You’ve been there for an hour! I need to use it, you know!” Mark yelled from the other side of the door, muffled but still audible and Taeyong placed a hand to his heart to feel every panicked beat. “Taeyong-hyung, come on!” He gulped, opening a compartment from under the sink and putting the towel along with the rest of his clothes from before and a rusting crowbar before he closed the lid, shutting it.

“I get it! I’m going out!” he replied back, fixing his hair and splashing some water on his face before he went and opened the door to see Mark tilting his head at his brother’s state.

The younger raised a brow at him. “What mauled you in there?”

Taeyong laughed at his joke, airy because he’s still having hard time breathing with his heart threatening to break his ribcage. “Jesus, kid. Get in there already.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying and it’s a good thing Mark doesn’t care either way because he just slips inside or locks the door behind him.

Taeyong wasted no time shuffling to his room, steps too big as he didn’t want anyone else to see him like this. He knew they would ask what was wrong with him, why he hadn’t been going outside his room other than to eat, use bathroom and watch over Mark. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, not when his thoughts are slipping between madness and coherency that he can’t even sleep without what he had done replaying like a broken record.

When he was in the confines of his room and he had locked the door, he looked at his closet.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have done it, perhaps he should have just let the whole situation fix itself without having anyone getting hurt or perhaps he shouldn’t have been so reckless with how he reacted.

But the crowbar was heavy in his hand despite the pain in his stomach after being kicked in the gut, the sight of Sicheng being pushed down to the ground with hands around his throat and the rain pelting heavily on his back did it feel right.

It felt right to swing the metal crowbar onto the person’s head.

It felt right to hear the sickening crack of the skull when he hit it again and again and again until he could only hear the splatter of the mess that came out of the split open wound that almost had the junction between his ear and head cut off. Blood is spilling around the wet grass that spreads with the rain, diluting it against the ground before it made the blood that had managed to fly onto his face drip down that he must have looked like he was crying. The smell of the rain mingling with the coppery scent of the blood made him dizzy but he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t when everything felt right.

“Enough.”

It didn’t feel right when Sicheng looked at him with an unreadable expression, brows furrowed at the body that was twitching on the ground. He looked like a drowned chick with his hair matted against his head with his red sweater clinging to his skinny frame. There’s the tell-tale sign of finger-shaped bruises around his neck that Taeyong took a particularly hard swing at the body on its chest that he heard the crunch of ribs breaking.

He doesn’t even register the hand that’s placed on his arm and he can’t stop the rush inside him, eyes blurred from the adrenalin rushing through his veins that he swung it at the direction where he felt the touch and the resounding thud of someone falling to the ground with a gasp is enough to make him rub his eyes, wincing when he realized he had blood on his hands.

Taeyong looked down to see Sicheng sprawled on the ground with blood dripping down the side of his forehead and he threw away the crowbar to haul the boy into his arms, panicked “No, no, no” drowned by the sound of the rain. He can’t stay here unless someone comes around but he can’t just leave Sicheng here because he will be questioned. The younger isn’t the most trustworthy of people around these parts and they all have some vendetta against him for not being the least friendly to his neighbors.

So he picked up Sicheng and carried the crowbar with him.

Back to the present where he has a hand on the handle of the sliding door, shaking from the fear that’s coming from the idea that maybe it’s just a dream and there be no one inside. He didn’t haphazardly wrap a bandage around Sicheng’s wounded head then changed his clothes to Taeyong’s own and when the boy was in and out of consciousness, he forced sleeping pills into his mouth to make sure his parents won’t find out. He wasn’t in the right mind before; it’s all just a fever dream, right?

He opens the door and Sicheng is sleeping on the blankets he threw in, eyes shut tightly as tremors erupted from his entire body. The white bandage is red now from soaking up the blood that Taeyong hopes it’s not infected.

“Goddamit.” He hisses before he rushes to the first aid kit he kept under his bed.

This was real and he had murdered someone for Sicheng who he had injured.

The urge to vomit came too fast he did do so on his trash bin.


	9. Chapter 9

"He wanted to bury his nose on the boy's neck, right at his pulse point where the scent of lavender was strongest that he felt dizzier than before.

He can't push him away because Sicheng might take it wrong, the younger's pout already in his head messing with him. The crowd pushes them closer that he is not sure where to put his hands before Sicheng suddenly moved that his back was on his chest baring his neck without knowing as he looked over the crowd. It’s like torture to have lavender and the musk of sweat that intensifies it that his throat is going dry. He wants to kiss Sicheng's neck, suck hickies so no other alpha or beta would try to take away what is his.

 Sicheng's yell is what makes Taeyong's hand come up to hold him by the sides, Yuta already coming to fetch his roommate and Taeyong can smell his irritation that almost douses the mouth-watering delight in front of him.

Oh well, another day he can try when Yuta isn't being the bitch Hansol doesn't deserve to have as a mate. Not that he's saying that out loud and making Yuta kill him while putting Sicheng in some makeshift tower. Small things, Taeyong mused when he finds that Sicheng isn't unaffected by his touch and he is assaulted with the sweetness of milk that he knew was from Sicheng's flustered Omega mind liking Taeyong's touch.

Small favors.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vamp taeyong and human winwin drabble

There was a stillness that didn’t settle well with him.

His ear rested on Taeyong’s chest, trying to pick up a heartbeat that he’s so used to listening to so he could fall asleep back in the orphanage cuddling with Kun. It’s like a habit he’s long adapted that his body refused to shut down after a long day without the little rhythmic pattern of heart beat to lull him to sleep.

In the elder’s bed, Sicheng is hyperaware. His body is bundled in covers that made his skin feel like he was cushioned in clouds with their soft material, feet tangled with Taeyong’s underneath as he felt the latter hug him closer. It’s a very quiet night without the cicadas chirping outside and the wind turned to a soft sweep across the air that it didn’t bristle the leaves. Sicheng’s breath warmed Taeyong’s skin, their contrast in temperatures between a dull heat and biting cold made the boy thankful for the blankets around them. Sicheng knew his body heat would transfer if they held each other long enough but it was still making goosebumps rise on his legs when Taeyong hooked his ankles around his.

This wasn’t new but Sicheng’s heart always beat too fast for his breathing to catch up to that Taeyong must have heard it beat like a jackhammer. Unlike the eerie absence of the other’s heartbeat that he still wasn’t used to knowing.

“Can’t sleep again?” Taeyong murmured, sounding more awake than he should be and Sicheng knew he wasn’t dozing off like he did. Taeyong never slept when Sicheng was sleeping over and he felt bad if it wasn’t for the reason why.

He hummed, hand idly resting on Taeyong’s chest near his face and he nuzzled his nose to the fabric of the other’s button down shirt. It smelled like Febreeze again and he chuckled.

“Sicheng-ah?”

“Were you cleaning another old room again?” Sicheng whispered as he raised his head to meet Taeyong’s eyes, smiling when he found that the elder was already looking at him. He blushed a little, biting his lip. His question isn’t important but Taeyong still humors him.

“I did,” he replied and tilted his head to brush his lips on Sicheng’s hairline that made a lock of his dark hair fall over his eyes “I have company over.”

Taeyong felt Sicheng stiffen in his hold and he rubbed his back soothingly until the tension eased from Sicheng’s body. “It’s alright. They’re pretty harmless. At least, one of them is,” he looked off to the distance as if contemplating his next words and sighed “I assure you that I won’t let them hurt you when you meet them tomorrow.”

Silence, Taeyong’s hand resting on Sicheng’s back with his fingers skimming over his spine in a placating gesture. He knew the younger boy was easily afraid of the company he kept that treated his house in the middle of the woods some sort of vacation home. It was the safest area for him after he was driven away by the townsfolk when they found out about what he was doing to their livestock. The mayor wanted to burn down the woods but with the many spirits dwelling inside it that they didn’t dare risk safety and put up a barbed fence to keep them away from their town. Sicheng was one of the few who had ventured out, right into Taeyong’s home and the image of the boy shaking like a leaf, unshed tears sticking to his pretty lashes with his quivering mouth staring at Taeyong like he wants to die peacefully was a memory he didn’t want to relive.

He cared for Sicheng too much to do make him feel unsafe.

Sicheng gulped, biting down his lower lip out of nervousness. Taeyong clicked his tongue and used his free hand to lightly pull it down away from the younger’s teeth, swiping his thumb to stop the rush of blood there. He can hear Sicheng’s heart pumping faster, blood smelling sweeter and his fangs itched.

“Are you hungry, hyung?” Those words made him jolt away, hands retreating to wrap around himself as he made space between the two of them. But with how their legs were tangled, he didn’t go so far. Sicheng flinched, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at him with wide eyes. “Hyung?”

Taeyong’s irises are mere dots, eyes too dark for Sicheng to feel comfortable with and he’s panting as he covered his mouth with his hand. Before he could ask, Taeyong threw off the covers and stood up that made Sicheng catch a glimpse of fangs that were peeking out of the other’s lips.

“I-I’ll be right back-” Taeyong strained as he turned his back and the moment he made a step forward for the door to maybe take some blood from a sheep, away from the siren call of blood that’s pumping through Sicheng’s veins but there’s fingers grabbing his shirt to pull him back. He didn’t look, hand still on his mouth with his eyes hurting at how wide he was opening them to gain a semblance of control.

A millennia of training himself to be better than those savages he knew his maker once was, years of building up the resistance to humans and their blood that he can live on livestock for the time being despite their lack of nutrients and he knows how to treat himself to little amounts just to quench the thirst every now and then with blood slaves that he finds out on the black market. They are paid handsomely and given better lives by the money he gives them but-

This was Sicheng, beautiful and sweet Sicheng who he had seen grow up from a stumbling child that found him feeding on a cow with blood on his mouth to a young man that never failed to make him feel things he’s not used to. If he were human, his heart would be fluttering every time Sicheng laughed and he felt caterpillars digging their fuzzy legs into his stomach when Sicheng told him that he loved spending time with him. It was known that Sicheng was isolated from his peers in the quiet orphanage he lived in after his best friend Kun was adopted into a family that moved away, always seen as quiet and weird because he preferred exploring the woods than stay inside.

He’s lost in his thoughts that he barely registered the soft touch on his wrist, lowering it from his mouth and then hands on his cheeks to lower his head down. Taeyong only flinched when his nose bumped on Sicheng’s neck, right over where his artery is and the scent of the strawberry that always lingered on Sicheng’s skin filling his senses. It’s mixing with the sweetness he can smell from the blood pumping inside and he whimpered, pushing against Sicheng because the pain in his fangs intensified. He wanted to bite down, break the skin so he could finally have a taste of that rushing red liquid. Taeyong has never been this close to a human’s neck with blood this sweet because most of the humans he met were scared and it gave their blood an ugly taste but Sicheng wasn’t afraid. He lifted his head to see that Sicheng is blushing heavily, his eyes adjusting to the darkness enough to find the redness of his ruddy cheeks contrasting with the determination in his eyes. It’s odd for him to see Sicheng like this and Taeyong is afraid he must have accidentally glamoured him before, his guards too low for him to control it when their eyes meet.

It’s unnerving how easy his control slips with Sicheng around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still on a break so have a little something :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loosely based on Blood+ AU where Taeyong and Johnny are kinda vampires and Sicheng is the kid Johnny raises after he kills the one who murdered Sicheng's mom. I gave up because it didn't make sense anymore.  
> (Non-linear narrative)

The cold chill of the night air was enough to make him huddle to his coat, the blanket of snow on the ground crunching underneath the weight of his boots with every step as made way towards the building. He raked his hand through the wisps of hair that had blown over his eyes while he walked up the broken stairs, squinting at the dim glow of light off the corner of the hall and sighed.

Johnny stopped in his tracks, pursing his lips before he made sure to stand right at where the corner started just as the light grew closer before he timed it enough to lean down at the small figure that’s holding a flashlight with a cheeky “Boo.”

There’s a loud squeak before it’s followed by the clatter of the flashlight hitting the floor and Johnny peered at the boy who didn’t look older than eight gasping out of shock, stifling a laugh when the latter turned to him with a horrified expression.

“You scared me!” he said in a high-pitched voice, the surprise still present as he held a hand over his chest and picked up the flashlight to illuminate Johnny’s suit-clad form, white clothes almost blending with the snow outside that he seemed to be shining in the darkness of the surroundings. It was a miracle he didn’t get it dirty when he always seemed to be working in the dusty confines of the old office. “What are you doing here?”

“What you are doing here is the better question,” Johnny retorted as he pulled at the collar of the younger’s blue pajamas that fit too loose he could almost it pull over his face and the boy whined for him to let go “I’m serious, child.”

“I’m not a child,” there’s the pout and Johnny has to stop himself from pinching those cheeks. He walked behind him as he peered at the long winding corridor to where at the end is the heavy iron door that’s bolted shut from the inside, a knocker the only way to be asked inside. He pursed his lips and crouched down to the boy’s level as he placed his hands on his shoulders.

“Sicheng, did you bother him again at this time of night?” he asked the child in a soft tone, more worried than angry to scold him about how he’s only in thin clothes at this weather and the unpredictability of whoever was behind the door. Sicheng’s bit his lower lip, his eyes looking anywhere but Johnny that the elder had to nudge his chin to make him “You know he needs his sleep and-“

“But he said to come.”

This made Johnny stop talking, eyebrows furrowed at the younger’s revelation and leaned closer so as he wouldn’t chalk it up to him hearing things. “How did he call you? I didn’t hear him make a sound the whole day.” Sicheng flinched, eyes owlish as they stared up at him and started to tear up.

This made the elder panic and shushed him by rubbing circles around his back, voice softer to stop Sicheng from crying even more. He must have thought that Johnny would reprimand him or worse, tell on him so that he’d be grounded for a month without talking to anyone and his toys would be taken away. It’s the worst that a child would need to endure that Johnny laughed a little. Sicheng thought it was him making fun of him, scoffing and hitting him on the chest while he kept rubbing his eyes to stop crying.

“Child, don’t cry. I’m not mad,” he explained, carding his fingers through Sicheng’s unruly hair while the latter leaned to the touch “You know how I worry about you when you visit. I’m sure he loves having you around but you see-“ he struggled with the right words that didn’t come off as a warning knowing that Sicheng would jump right in to defend them so he smiled “Your hyung is a little different.”

Different in the way that he can easily smile at Johnny when morning came and he had to place the plate of food on his table, eyes crinkling as he dug into the mess of blood and flesh that’s making more stains on the tablecloth. Different in a sense that he’d speak about Sicheng as he’s crushing the chicks brought to him with bare hands, picking their bones, feathers and organs apart to use as paint for the canvas he had in the deeper confines of his room and he’d be speaking on how Sicheng reminded him of a baby chick that instead of killing, he wanted to treasure in a little cage made of gold. He was different that whenever he was walking around the compound, there’d be a leash around his neck to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to run to the main house where Sicheng was to greet him.

It could be because he was so different and Sicheng being the only human he’s ever interacted with, he had grown fond of the boy. Too fond too fast, that is and Johnny wished that he would have been more careful with Sicheng following him.

“But you’re also my hyung,” Sicheng sniffed, rubbing his nose with his sleeve and wrapped his arms around Johnny to emphasize his point before he let go after a few minutes “See? You’re okay with me hugging you but you won’t let me hug him.”

Because if he as much as holds you in his arms, he would never let you go is what Johnny wanted to say but Sicheng is too young to understand the implications of that so he settled with “You’re too small for him to hug and hyung is very strong that he’ll crush you.”

There’s a sparkle of curiosity in Sicheng’s eyes and he tilted his head. “How strong?”

He would crush your ribcage enough that it’d collapse your entire respiratory system. It had happened once that the image isn’t easy to forget considering it was a grown man who had tried to break into the room. “Do you remember when I carried the sack of potatoes on my shoulder?” A tiny nod and Johnny continued with a grin “Stronger than that. He’s very bad at controlling his strength.”

Wrong. There was a significant amount of restraint present but it’s more of the stern warning that Johnny gave him if he ever wanted to see the light of day again that no harm is to come to Sicheng unless he wanted the taller man to choke him with his own leash. He might be stronger but Johnny was wiser than him with how he’s been taught by the strangest of arts that aren’t of this plane of existence. There were rules that Johnny took too much to heart in this place, all things considered how he is the most trusted one of all the workers of the family and Sicheng was under his protection more so than the others. He’s been with the Dong family for so long that he had been in paintings of the first generation; the framed family tree always had his photo captioned as the head of the staff despite being worn out with age. But everyone has kept hush-hush about the existence of a Johnny Seo outside of immediate family. Sicheng, however, was the only exception and Johnny had vowed to protect this boy with his life.

Sicheng gasped, hands clasping over his mouth and felt Johnny’s arm for the muscles that he must be trying to imagine. “But you’re both so thin!”

Johnny couldn’t help but keep smiling at Sicheng. He furrowed his brows when he noticed the boy shivering and decided it was time to cut this meeting short. “You’re freezing, aren’t you?” The boy nodded, making him hoist his small body by the knees so Sicheng could comfortably loop his arms around his neck and he carried him with his other hand supporting his back.

The younger tried to get comfortable, head resting on Johnny’s chest to bask in the warmth radiating from him like a furnace. Johnny huddled him closer when he realized that the boy’s skin was colder than he thought, rubbing comforting circles around Sicheng’s back that he knew would lull him to sleep. “Next time, if you want to visit him, call for me. I’ll make sure that you wouldn’t be-“

“Wouldn’t be what?” was Sicheng’s drowsy response, words fading as he drifted in and out of consciousness. His eyes started to droop, blinking a little when Johnny started walking but he’s comfortable with his back being rubbed that he finally shut his eyes.

The elder jostled him a bit to see if he was still awake and the boy merely shifted his head onto the crook of Johnny’s neck so he continued walking towards the door.

Johnny didn’t bother with the knocker and called out loud enough it wouldn’t disturb Sicheng and be heard on the other side. He didn’t flinch with the metallic creak that came as the lock was turned, held Sicheng closer when the door pushed open into a small gap before he went inside. He shouldn’t be taking Sicheng inside when he was most vulnerable but he didn’t think it was safe for him to go back to his room at this hour alone with how he might freeze to death. The safest option was to take the tray, grab some blankets and retire for the night after he tucked Sicheng to his bed. It’s easy to list that down in his head but the moment he entered the room, the scent of blood hits him strong enough that he realized that it wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

There’s an underlying scent of decay from the continuous surplus of break-ins that happened to find this secluded building looking like it could have something expensive hidden inside. Their noise was enough to get the door open, walking into their demise without much thought. Johnny had to clean most of the body up after they were torn apart and drained of blood, sighing when he had to dirty his suit most of the time that he’d kept so many spares. The walls were burgundy, meant to hide the blood stains from the time that eating was still a messy affair while the décor was kept in minimal with the table for dining, a bedroom hidden by the corner that no one could see it unless they turned the corner and a study that was opposite the pseudo-dining room where there were shelves of books, some spines pulled out halfway. He picked up the spare blanket dumped over the back of the chair behind the desk and draping it over Sicheng before he took the tray that had an empty plate caked with crusts of blood, a glass with a little water left and the utensils bent and stained with red. He balanced it on his arm, the sudden shift of the atmosphere that the room grew cold made him look around to find a young man his age that’s peeking out the corner staring with alert eyes that seemed to be concentrated on the bundle resting on his chest.

Johnny sent him a tight-lipped smile, bowing a little. “I trust you ate well and no one bothered you.”

No reply. The man’s eyes narrowed as he revealed himself more, white shirt having splatters of red around the cuffs and on his chest and his loose pants having a large hole on the thigh. He seemed to be thinking, head tilting before a slow smile laced with malice appeared on his lips. “Winwin came back to play, didn’t he?”

Johnny tightened his grip around Sicheng, shaking his head slowly with a click of his tongue. “He’s tired for tonight. You know how his kind doesn’t do well without rest considering he’s still a child.” He hissed, walking around the other in a way that if he even tried to reach out and grab the small boy in his arms, Johnny would be able to use his other arm to block him.

“But he’s here now,” there’s a gleam of manic glee as the male’s hands started to clench open and close. His knuckles seemed to turn white at every closed fist he made but released it to make a slow curl of his fingers that Johnny hastened his steps even when he could feel the male following him “He’s never slept over and I don’t see the harm in it. I could protect him here.”

The tone of his voice, cold and slow as he dragged his syllables that they were rolling out his tongue in a chilling way that made Johnny’s skin crawl and he stomped his foot before yelling loud and clear “He’s not staying here longer than he needs to!”

Silence before he ducked down to avoid the knife thrown at him, zooming past his neck and indenting to the far off wall. Johnny made sure to hide Sicheng underneath the blanket so his weak spots couldn’t be seen and took a deep, shuddering breath. Wisps of his hair flutter down from where the sharp edge had managed to cut, glaring at the other man who just stretched his arms to show he was unarmed. It’s difficult to think of him as anything but a painting come to life, strong eyebrows that intensify his face and a bone structure that he once recalled a man from the second generation explaining how much it fit the golden ratio with his sharp jaw and beautiful nose. It was easy to get lost in the surreal sight of him but Johnny has gotten used to what he looked like outside to know what he really is within.

“Remember what I told you. Not a hair or a tooth or even a damned nail is going to be harmed on him, you are not allowed to call to him at night and you are forbidden to make prolonged physical contact with him, do you remember that?” he hissed, gritting his teeth when Sicheng moved his head to squish his cheek on Johnny’s collar “Taeyong, you’d be good as dead if you even think of keeping this boy inside here when you’ll just murder as you please without thinking about him.”

“He needs to learn.”

“There’s nothing to learn,” Johnny didn’t shout, just raised his voice enough that Taeyong flinched a little and he pursed his lips “He is a child and this isn’t where he’s supposed to be. Let him be-”

Taeyong’s face turned stormy, eyes narrowing that they were just slits that showcased pupils blown that it overtook the silver in his eyes.  He moved his foot forward in a slow motion before he zoomed too fast that he was standing an arm’s length from Johnny. He was shorter than him yet the weight of his gaze made the latter feel smaller than he should, jaw tensing when Taeyong placed a hand on Sicheng’s head. “He’s never escaping this, you do know that. He’s part of our world and you know that much better than I do when you take too much time watching over someone so…mortal. How does it feel,” he moved his hand to clasp at Johnny’s jaw to force him to look into his eyes “How does it feel to care so much about someone so easy to kill?”

Johnny whipped his head away from Taeyong’s hand, shoving him away with his shoulder before he walked to the door. There’s laughter from the shorter man that’s hollow and sent Sicheng whimpering in Johnny’s arms. “I mean it. Stop luring him here.”

Taeyong shrugged, eyes on Sicheng again. “Winwin is the cutest, isn’t he? If only he stopped growing when he was a tiny baby, I could have eaten his pure flesh when he looked so, so sweet. Just like the smell of his blood,” he licked his lips, turning his gaze to Johnny’s despite the irritation starting to bubble under his skin “Have you tried to see if he’s as good as he tasted? Is that why you want to keep him all to yourself?” Taeyong made long pauses at the last words, hitting his tongue to the roof his mouth as a way to mock him.

Johnny didn’t answer and shut the door behind him with his foot.

The cold of the night wasn’t enough to cool down the anger that’s swimming in his veins. He took calming breaths that he timed to his steps as he went to Sicheng’s room located far away from the building, looking back to see that from the distance he’s crossed, the curtain is pulled back on one of the barred windows where a figure is peering outside. He gritted his teeth, quickening his pace.

Everyone in the household was asleep like he expected, dumping the tray to the sink of the dark kitchen before he walked up the stairs to Sicheng’s designated room at the end of the west hall. He was careful not to wake the boy as he placed him on his bed, tucking him under the starship-themed covers watching him wiggle into the warmth. Johnny carded his fingers through Sicheng’s hair, small smile on his lips before he fluffed the pillows around him and walked out without any noise.

Johnny found himself in the kitchen after that, tea cup on his lips as he stared into the dark red liquid inside with the taste of copper relieving his tired body. He placed the cup back on the saucer he was holding midair, licking the drop that was on the corner of his mouth and looked at his white suit where his collar had a wet spot where Sicheng might have drooled on. He chuckled to himself, sipping more of the blood and wondered what he should do.

He’s worried about Taeyong’s constant use of telepathy to call Sicheng at the most inconvenient of times, the idea that he’s slowly trying to condition the boy into staying with him longer already a red flag in itself. He nudged the rim of his cup onto his lips to let the scent help him relax and think better.

“What do you suggest I do?” he asked to no one in particular, listening to the sounds of the night. The branches of the old trees surrounding the house tapped on the windows in tune to the wind, the roaring of the fireplace that was punctuated with the embers that crackled with the lick of flames on the air. He listened to the sound of breathing around the house, sensitive hearing taking in the steady rhythm of inhales and exhales from peaceful sleep that was coupled with few snores here and there before he heard the rustling of fabric and the hiccup of gasps that came with a pattering of feet that made him look up the ceiling in alarm. He listened to the steps make way as a door closed and he placed his cup and saucer on the table top before he stood up to follow the sound. Perhaps it was just one of the older women who were prone to having more problems that they’d drink away their worries and it affected their mental state that they’d wander looking for something only they could see inside their intoxicated unconscious mind. He wondered who would it be and considered what to do when he found them, the warnings of waking up a sleepwalker like they might turn violent or harm them and he fixed his cuffs so he would able to fend them off if necessary.

Johnny peered up the stairs, expecting the nightgown clad women who chattered loudly when he passed by their drawing room but his eyebrows quirked when he saw it was just Sicheng dragging his blanket behind him. He clicked his tongue as he met the tiny boy halfway the stairs. Sicheng rubbed his eyes, yawning into his palm and smacked his lips to get rid of his sleepiness.

“Can I have some water?”

Johnny laughed, holding his hand in his larger one and replied with a relieved “Of course.”

\---

“Johnny, this is Sicheng. Take care of him.” The woman stared up at him from where she sat, eyes fixed on the bundle in her arms covered in blankets to fend off the oncoming chill that autumn brought. The windows were drawn, the vanishing orange hues of the sunset turning into indigo as the night approached and Johnny didn’t dare to turn the lights on when he entered, cautious with the woman who was huddled close to the fireplace that the flames casted harsh shadows to her face.

The man in question raised a brow at her introduction but made no comment about it, choosing to come closer to look into the cotton and linen fabrics where the round head of the baby peeking out, small mouth opening to yawn. Sicheng’s eyes were closed like most babies did at his age. Barely even a month old and born prematurely, he was tinier than the children that Johnny has seen being born into the family and he found that even if the blankets were not that big, they almost drowned his face that he looked like he was in a cocoon.

“Why did you ask for me?” he asked when he had finished his inspection of the child who had caused an uproar in the household when it wasn’t the expected day his mother was supposed to give birth. Johnny had broken one of the fine china sets when the head of the family had bumped into him in a hurry, not even bothering with an apology as he raced to his wife who had screamed while she was in the garden cutting roses. He picked up the broken handle of the pot and cleaned up the spilled tea, thinking that they were probably overreacting again with every little cut the woman made when she handled anything sharp enough to puncture her skin. He had managed to finish putting the shards on the tray when the head came back with his wife in his arms, her dress stained with blood as she sobbed on her husband’s chest before the man bumped into Johnny again that made him lose grip of his tray and drop it a second time. The elder had no choice but to let the other maids sweep it as he went to check the rest of the household to call for a doctor and tend to the injured woman.

The woman in front of him is nothing like the doting housewife that held tea parties with grace: her hair was matted that knots came out of the disarray of her black hair, nightdress too loose that it made her look skeletal paired with eyes that had started to sink with the sleepless nights she had to endure. She might drop the weight in her arms if it weren’t for her sitting down and using her knees as leverage. “Oh, isn’t he beautiful?”

Johnny didn’t say anything, senses already on edge because the baby stirred and she huddled herself closer to it with a manic grin as blood-stained fingers came up to pat the fabric. She started to coo unintelligible things under her breath to Sicheng whose eyebrows furrowed and he let out a hiccup, the sound turning to loud cry that made her eyes widen more. She shushed him, hands leaving dots of red on the white blankets as she patted around him. He found it fascinating, whatever this was and he is torn between leaving and staying a little longer to see where this woman was going to do.

Her eyes narrowed when Sicheng didn’t stop crying, arms swaying too much that the blankets are starting to loosen around the boy’s body. Johnny stared as she gritted her teeth the louder Sicheng’s cries became and echoing through the room that it would have alerted someone upstairs that she let out a frustrated scream “Why won’t you quiet down?” She pressed her forehead to the child’s, staring into his closed lids in frenzy “Why won’t you listen to your mother?”

Johnny had enough, moving to her side quietly as to not spook her but the moment he was an arm’s reach Sicheng wailed with his mouth wide open. He didn’t stop to re-evaluate as he reached over just as she threw the bundle into the fireplace’s direction, his sleeve catching fire as he managed to hold on to the baby and held it to his chest in fear that the movement might have broken the baby’s neck, placing his palm to where he thought was the nape before he slapped her across the face.

She stumbled to the floor, knocking on the body that lay on her feet and staining her night gown with more blood that it got to her face. “Give me back my child!” she wailed and wobbled back to her feet to grab Sicheng but Johnny simply turned his heel to avoid her, staring down at the blankets and saw that Sicheng was well, if not starting to fuss because of how he was handled but the tears have stopped. Perhaps he could give this child some credit on recognizing that whoever held him before wasn’t his mother. “You really are not well, aren’t you?”

The woman stared at him in fury, hair cascading down her face in knotted strands and she kept her hands in front of her body. Johnny could see that one of her fingernails were torn off, blood that looked black in the dimness of the surroundings that he made sure that he had a proper hold of Sicheng. He knew that she would be on her last resolve, fight response already in overdrive to just take away her prize from what she perceived as a threat.

“Give him back or I’ll kill you too!”

Johnny wanted to laugh but settled with a roll of his eyes. “Perhaps I should remind you why I’m head of household here and you just murdered one of my staff,” he cocked his head to the side, eyes already illuminating in the dark as the sky finally lost any source of light and she stared into two orbs of ghostly blue. Her knees are starting to shake as she recalled the words her husband had told her the first time she was introduced to the household after a month into their marriage, warnings about the head of the household who didn’t take lightly to outsiders trying to break his rules. She remembered the first time they locked eyes, fear washing over her in a cold wave when she looked into empty blue eyes from the top of the stairs clad in a white suit.

Seeing them glow made her think of hell fire, blue flames that spelled nothing but death for her.

She lunged at Johnny and he just did a side step, turning to her with smirk when his hand grabbed her neck to snap it in half before she slumped into the fire place.

“Oh, dear. What a mess.” He told himself while he rocked Sicheng when he found the baby fussing in his blanket cocoon. It’s such a sad thing that he was orphaned twice in such little time he was born, something about that which made Johnny trace the back of his hand down the baby’s soft cheek and a feeling close to fondness settle in his chest “Poor child. I’ll make sure you’ll be adopted into a better place.”

He picked up the pitcher he had carried inside the room, pouring the water over the flames to quell them when the smell of burning flesh took over the room and the face of the woman had become a cavity of blackened mass that spilled blood on the wood. He made sure to tuck Sicheng into the crib of the playroom that the couple had made for their stillborn child before he disposed of her body the only way he knew how.

The look on Taeyong’s face when he served him the corpse, dumping it into the other’s lap while he was staring into space once again in his dining room, was comical.

He blinked slowly at the mass on him before his dull brown eyes turned into glowing red orbs and opened his mouth as his tongue traced over his teeth. “Interesting,” he swallowed his saliva that was pooling in his mouth at the smell of burnt flesh and started tearing into the skin, bones crunching and blood spilling that he lapped the mess with vigor.

Johnny doesn’t speak, waiting for Taeyong to finish but the latter grinned with his teeth stained red and used a bone to point at Johnny, “Who did you kill her for?”

“No one.” he snapped at him without missing beat and looked out the window to see if the head had realized what had happened. The head of the project would probably be in the head’s bedroom with a bullet wound to the head and possibly had her stomach ripped open with a razor, the evidence pointing to the woman who wasn’t blood-related to them as well as the missing son she had given birth to the same time the head’s wife lost her child.

“Lies taste disgusting, Youngho-“Taeyong started to say but Johnny narrowed his eyes at him enough to shut him up “I know you and your civilized way of life pleasing those animals and turning soft for over nothing.” He spat out and he broke off the arch of the ribcage he was chewing on and giggled “A wishbone!”

Johnny rolled his eyes and when he spotted the windows starting to light up, he turned before he spoke over his shoulder at the male “Taeyong, you should start trying to think about what to do when the head of the project dead. You won’t be getting mercy from here on out.”

Taeyong’s mouth turned into a sick grin, stained teeth intensifying the giddiness that the male felt knowing what was in store “The more, the bloodier.” He responded and Johnny shook his head as he went out the room with it locking behind him.

Johnny went into the kitchen to make Sicheng a bottle of milk before he went to fix the discord within the house. It’s a very chaotic situation but he ignored the stares he got when he barked orders holding a blue baby bottle in his hands.

\---

Sicheng pouted as he raised his arms to grab the branch overhead, hauling himself up and managing to sit on it. He stared over the people walking in the quad, some even sitting down near the main buildings underneath the many trees to hide from the sun.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found the coast was clear, moving to pick his bag from the ground by wrapping his legs around the branch and ducking down. The tips of fingers barely touch the strap so he moved his body lower but to no avail. He’s already managed to hold it in time that he felt the dizziness of blood rushing to his head from being upside down too long when someone yelled a “Hey!” at him.

Sicheng fell to the grass with a painful thud, thankful that his bag cushioned his spine from the blow and glared up at the figure that’s in front of him. “I told you, hyung. I’m not going with you.” He said with his vision blurring from the vertigo that is more evident when he stood up and stumbled a little on his heels.

There’s a look of annoyance on Yuta’s face, the elder dressed too formal to be outside enjoying the breeze. Sicheng himself is wearing cut-off jeans and a thin shirt with how warm it was but Yuta’s in a button-down shirt tucked into his pressed slacks and shiny new shoes. He’s only ever this well-dressed when he has a presentation in school or with people he wanted to impress.

But Sicheng knew why he was dressed like that today.

“Sicheng, it’s just one day in the museum! I’ll be making tours and you’ll attend my tour to tell me if anyone was talking shit about me so I can mark a bad record!”

That is why.

He scoffed, clicking his tongue when he remembered he had a cheesecake in his bag and it’s probably smashed right now because of the fall. Sicheng glared at Yuta, crossing his arms as he checked-“Listen, I know you’re into that eye for an eye even if technically, you can’t please everyone,” –yep, now a pile of mush inside the paper bag with its plastic cover caving into the cream and it’s a miracle the bag didn’t rupture with how wet it was. He removed it, choosing to eat it by scraping with the spoon he brought “But you see, I’m not going to be part of this.”

Yuta took his spoon, taking a scoop and wincing when he didn’t like the flavor. “Listen, no one has to know-“

“You proclaim I’m your closest and you love me very much every single day, forgetting everyone has us associated as the two foreigners who cling to each other among other things.”

“Like what?”

Sicheng doesn’t answer and levels a glare at the elder while shoving a large bit of ruined cheesecake into his mouth. Not even the rich, creamy goodness can make him feel any better because Yuta is pouting at him and giving eyes that could rival a begging puppy.

Nakamoto Yuta was well-known around the university. He was sociable, very opinionated to the point people wonder when he’ll run out of opinions to share and handsome that some girls always made a point to stare at him when he passed by, satisfied with just using their eyes than hear him insult anyone who thinks they can mess with him. Yuta is older than Sicheng but despite this, he’s held back a year that they had shared a History of the Worlds class and the two hit off because Sicheng is considered weird, never speaking beyond what is asked of him and Yuta wanted to help the new kid settle in. They’ve been inseparable ever since, though more of Yuta always latching to Sicheng to see if he could do anything to make the younger happy and Sicheng’s doesn’t really mind the company.

After a few minutes of Yuta just doing his own rendition of some puppy dog begging, Sicheng reluctantly agreed. The elder hugged him so hard that he might have broken something.

 

The displays are actually nice.

He’s barely listening to what Yuta is rambling, the sound of his voice deep but with some enthusiasm that Sicheng couldn’t keep up with as they weaved through the corridors. The students with him are familiar, some sharing his class and some he knew by passing. He saw Dongyoung, a student above his year whisper into his friend’s ear that there was always something creepy about post war paraphernalia and they pointed to the yellowed pages of newspaper from years ago that’s carefully preserved in the glass cases.

A younger student, Sanha, raised his arm to ask about why there were so many massacres during that time to which Yuta started his spiel about some secret soldiers that were employed by the opposing side that didn’t care about human life so much that bloodbaths were only the tip of the iceberg.

“It’s known that there were accounts of cannibalism in the bodies, the bones looking like they were stripped clean and piled up in a way that suggested they were feasted on by these soldiers. The blood was always staining the ground but for some reason, it looked like they had drank from the bodies with how pale they were found post-mortem,” Yuta said and waved over an article that showed a grainy picture of men that were digging up a pit to hide the bones in “They believed that they couldn’t bring the bones with them in fear the soldiers would find them by the scent of the blood which is odd in itself. The bones were buried a few miles away from where the massacre happened and were unearthed when a landslide exposed them by corroding down to a small village.”

Sicheng looked at the photo as well, unsure why there’s a nagging at the back of his head that made it familiar. Not the people or the scene but the situation, the burying of bones in an empty lot.

“Yuta-ssi, are you sure this happened? It sounds like some horror story you can pick up on the net.” Ever the reasonable one, Dongyoung can be. Sicheng met his eyes by accident and the elder nodded his head at him in acknowledgement. He was nice, if not a bit harsh when he talks about things that usually sound normal to other people and Sicheng can’t blame him. He’s the student council president after all and he needed to reinforce rules without making people look down on him. That’s usually why he and Yuta butted heads a lot.

“Well, we’re in a museum recording this so can’t say that we don’t have reliable sources.” Yuta smoothly countered back as they continued onto the devices that were used to torture spies that wandered into enemy grounds.

Sicheng is about to follow them but there’s a movement at the corner of his eyes that he turned head to look into the lone display at the corner of the exhibit. The lights from above is casting a harsh glow that is bouncing off the glass around it, casting a streak of white that hides the photo from where he’s standing.

He doesn’t know why he’s walking to it, eyes drawn as the image that got clearer and clearer the more he got closer.

Standing a few steps away from it because of the rope that served as a boundary tied to three stands that reached his hip, Sicheng stared at the old photograph. It had rips on the edges with one rip large enough that it had gone across one of the faces in the picture and spots of brown he assumes is dirt is splattered around it. He furrowed his brows the more he stared, the more the feeling of concern grew when he looked over the three people inside it.

“The Survivors of the first massacre?” he read from the bronze plate below it, assessing the image more.

He stared into the tallest that stood in the middle, hair sweeping over that it revealed his forehead with eyes that were staring into the side. He was holding both the two on his side, the one on his left with darker eyes and stronger brows with a bone structure that made Sicheng think of the paintings he saw of Greek art last month: sharp and handsome and the one on the right was where the rip had gone across the face, but it seemed that he was the one wearing the cleanest clothes out of the three.

He couldn’t help it but he reached out, wanting to touch the photo and then-

“Does it interest you, that photograph?” a voice whispered beside his ear, jolting him out of his trance that he took a step backwards to see who it was.

It was a young male who Sicheng realized was shorter than him because he is met with the top of his head before he lowered his eyes to meet those of the other’s. There’s a glint in them that unsettles him but he doesn’t want to be rude and said “Um, no.”

The male hummed as if he was agreeing but then he crossed his arms and leaned forward “You were staring at it too much to not be interested. It’s alright.”

“I, um, not really but-“ Sicheng fidgeted when the other didn’t make a move to give him back his personal space and racked his mind for something to reply back to him. He settled with looking at the shiny name tag on the other’s breast pocket and blinked when he saw the “Host” that was engraved under his name. Ten Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.

As if sensing it, the male reached out his hand. “How rude of me. I’m the owner of this exhibit and I just wanted to see if I could help you with anything. No one ever looks too much here because it bores them,” A chuckle that doesn’t sound right to Sicheng’s ears comes out of his pretty mouth “Please call me Ten. I hope you would ask me why you liked this photo.”

He blushed in embarrassment, turning to the display before returning his gaze to the other’s. “It’s nothing, really.” He blurted out and he stared into Ten’s outstretched hand that made him narrow his eyes at it.

Ten merely gestures it with his eyes until Sicheng took it. The other doesn’t let go at first when they finished shaking, grip tightening over his wrist before it slid across Sicheng’s palm and lightly grasping his fingers just as Ten looked at him with a strange fond look. “Interesting.”

There’s a shiver down Sicheng’s spine. “Did these people really let themselves be photographed?” he said to try and erase the goosebumps rising on his arm from the handshake. Sicheng vowed to get as much as hand sanitizer and alcohol as he can to stop the clammy feeling returning to his hand “If there was a massacre, wouldn’t they be traumatized?”

Ten hummed in response, moving close to Sicheng that their arms touched. “I agree with you there. Is it considered rude to document you after your misery? Have your face be used in records and be asked about what had transpired that only you know about? But who am I to ask? My family had been into photography for so long that they never stop to think of the story behind the photos.”

“I want to ask you,” he continued, brown eyes looking burgundy in the light that Sicheng stepped back a bit in surprise “What does humanity have that makes them evil?”

“Excuse me?”

“War between men is bad enough after all. What of the things that lurk in the deep night that grinds flesh between their teeth and drain blood off their bodies? It’s an interesting notion on which would be more of the threat: the humans or the monsters.”

Sicheng doesn’t get to answer because Yuta came in between him and Ten, not even realizing how he had been backed up on the wall and how close the other was to him. Yuta grabbed him by the arm to push him behind, smile bright that he lived up to his name of healing smile.

Yuta took Ten’s hand, shaking it firmly before saying in a cheery tone “Hello, sir! I’m glad you found my wayward student. We were in the middle of a tour but looks like he got lost and got separated. I’m so glad you kept him company.”

Ten’s smile grew brighter, nodding his head with every word that Yuta said. “I’m just glad you enjoyed my ehxhibit. It’s awfully nice to find some people who care more than the torture devices,” his eyes caught Sicheng’s just as they narrowed “After all, there are things that hurt more without any aid necessary.”

Yuta almost rolled his eyes, smiling more painful now that it looked like he was trying to split his face. He grabbed Sicheng’s wrist, giving a curt nod “Well, my other students won’t wait for us forever so it was nice meeting you. Your exhibit is great, very bloody but also informative. Have a good day!” he rushed without even bothering to hide that he wanted to go away.

Sicheng let himself be dragged, ignoring Yuta’s muttering about not leaving out of the blue. He looked over his shoulder to see that Ten is smiling at him, waving when he saw Sicheng was looking.

The two vanished into the turn of the corridor and Ten shook his head in amusement.

He stared at the photograph, smiling to himself “Oh, dear. You really should stop letting people who smell like that out of your sight,” he said, moving closer as he pulled out a thin wallet from his back pocket “Or are you trying to protect him from Taeyong that you seemed to forget there are worse things out there?”

He opened the wallet, the exact photo on color and with his face where the rip had ruined it on the display laid. “Oh, Johnny. That’s not how you play the game.”

\---

Sicheng had only begun walking when he formally met him.

There was always something inside his toddler mind that made him want to wander around the premises searching for something to do. Everyone in the household always made sure he didn’t go out of the house when he’d play. They always cited that the head butler would be angry at them if they even tried to follow his whims and get him dirty with grass stains and leaves in his hair. They all understood that Sicheng shouldn’t be harmed even the slightest even if it meant holing him up with toys and books where they could accompany him in the many rooms of the house. Some of the family who saw the boy would hide their distaste for him, knowing full well that he was not of their blood despite bring adopted by the widowed head of the family as if it were to atone for what his wife had done. The man didn’t even question why there was blood in his room after Johnny came to him with a bundle in his hands being fed from a bottle, blue eyes almost too intense to look at and he didn’t speak to anyone for days. Only then did Johnny mention bout wanting to put the boy into an adoption care did he speak, saying that if the child were to be given to someone else it would be better if he was the one to take it in.

It didn’t mean he would care for it. It just meant that he would be responsible for it because guilt was gnawing at him that’s greater than his despair for his wife.

This lack of attention didn’t faze Sicheng. He barely saw his step-father to care about him, let alone want to know more about someone he only saw when he would pass by his study. Sicheng didn’t even eat with the rest of the family because he preferred eating in the household servant’s time to get a meal, choosing to eat with Johnny in the kitchen as the elder gave him some soup and bread that he made for his weak stomach.

He was even given some sorbet that he relished each time he got to eat the frozen treat.

Sicheng was only three but there were things that understood that made him feel older than he was. He knew that he wasn’t allowed outside because Johnny said so and that he can only play in the garden when it was tea time and people were present as the elder serving the guests while keeping an eye out for him. The number one rule, however, came in the form of a grave warning that Johnny would tell him every time he tucked Sicheng to bed with his hand carding through the child’s black hair.

“Don’t go to the building that’s separate from the main house.”

It was obvious which one he was talking about because he had heard maids gossiping about it when they thought he wasn’t listening. The screams that echoed from it, the pungent scent of blood and flesh from whatever was inside that place was a stuff of nightmares. It was the place where the experimentation took place for reasons only the head knew about and that the one in charge was yet to be replaced causing the project to be temporarily halted. Whatever thing inside it still needed to be fed and Johnny was often given that task.

Johnny was Sicheng’s father figure but it would be a lie to say SIcheng wasn’t afraid of him.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon over tumblr asked for:  
>  a/b/o taewin

Sicheng whines against his neck, the puff of warm air that hits his pulse point makes him almost drop him. He doesn’t, thankfully, and hikes the younger higher up his back even when their height difference is making this hard. Taeyong is not that much shorter than Sicheng but the younger’s long legs have been the bane of his existence in many situations that he keeps tucked inside his head and away from Sicheng’s knowledge.

“I really don’t think you should be outside your dorm,” Taeyong grumbles, ignoring the way that Sicheng is now nuzzling the top of his head and he tightens his hold on him “Who goes out their room with a high fever, you stubborn brat?” he scolds him with no bite because he’s more worried about what might have happened if he didn’t catch him walking aimlessly with a hand on the wall to hold him up outside the building that was a few houses away from his dorm. Taeyong wanted to visit him and the heart attack he almost had when he smelled Sicheng closer than he thought, bleary-eyed and in his oversized navy blue chick pajamas.

The first thing that Sicheng tells him is “Hyung, you’re here,” with a shaky smile before his hand slips from the wall and he falls right into Taeyong’s arms that the latter actually loses his balance. He lands on his butt that he hisses from the impact but then Sicheng is yelping with how his knees seem to have dug on Taeyong’s thighs that softened the blow to Taeyong’s expense.

He catches a whiff of the scents that are coming off of Sicheng in waves and almost gags. Sicheng still smells like lavender and milk but it is hiding under the smell of his fever cloying it to a sweetness that isn’t easy on his nose like decaying fruit that he rubs his nose on the part where the smell was strongest.

Sicheng just giggled then, sleepy and fever-muddled brain not registering what was going on as he whispers “That tickles” right at Taeyong’s ear. This was enough to snap the Alpha back to his senses, flushing and apologizing before he makes the decision to carry him so it would be safer.

Taeyong still thinks he has a bruise when Sicheng barreled onto his back when he offered to give him a piggyback ride home.

So here they were, walking quietly as Taeyong ignores Sicheng sometimes pressing his lips on the nape of his nape and mumbling incoherent things that made him red on the face and warning the boy when he tightens his arms around Taeyong’s neck to the point he could be strangling him. Sicheng’s out of it mostly as his medicine kicks in that his tongue is looser and Taeyong can almost string what point he’s trying to get across when he speaks.

“I missed you.”

“We were together this morning, you dummy.”

Sicheng shakes his head a little, hair tickling Taeyong’s neck as he burrows his face to the elder’s back even if it meant hunching “It’s not the same.”

Taeyong tilts his head back to bump at Sicheng’s head lightly “Don’t hunch,” he scolds and Sicheng sighs before he hooks his chin on Taeyong’s shoulder instead “What’s not the same when we practically see each other?”

“Because.” He can hear the pout in Sicheng’s voice and he chuckles to himself at how cute he was.

“Is it not the same with Doyoung? He takes care of you too.” Which is true as Doyoung is much more trustworthy than Yuta, Sicheng’s other roommate when it came to taking care of a sick person as he was an all around boy scout and Yuta had the tendency to panic when it came to Sicheng’s well-being he would have worsened his sickness.

Taeyong picks up the disappointment that mixes with Sicheng’s already heavy scent and he wants to get him home faster to soothe him, cover him in his scent to relax him by cuddling with him even when he could catch the cold too. He doesn’t want to see him sad at all and when he heard him sneeze and shiver, his heart squeezed painfully at his suffering.

Sicheng snuggled closer, sleepiness now creeping over him from the medicine and he mouths the words “Because I always miss my Alpha” right on the bond mark that Taeyong has on his neck that made him stop walking or else he would have tripped. Taeyong closed his eyes, the surge of pride and care and _adoration_ he feels overwhelming him that he needs to breathe a little to calm down.

“Sleep, love.” He whispers, tilting his head to kiss the side of Sicheng’s hair and continues walking.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> halcyonwhispers asked for:  
> Vampire Taeyong and werewolf Sicheng living in the same college dorm

“You know, it doesn’t work,” Sicheng looked up at where he can see the shadow that is failing to blend in with the wall no matter how it tried to press its back to it “Being broody and mysterious like a bad black and white movie villain when I can see the sheet peeking out the corner.”

The shadow flinched, cursing afterwards in Latin that made him roll his eyes with how dramatic it was and emerged out of the corner, black sheets wrapped around his shoulders dragging behind him. Ethereal features that don’t belong anywhere else than the pages of a fantasy novel, pale skin looking so washed out you could mistake it with paper and the dark bags underneath narrowed muddy eyes that in other circumstances would be bright and alert.

“Oh, look. Classic cape look. Listen, sit the fuck down.” Sicheng snapped in annoyance. He’s pretty antsy because he can smell the hostility that is coming off of him but he’s pretty much immune to his moods because come the full moon, he would be the one with a mood. A big mood, if he were honest.

Taeyong hissed at him, sharp fangs in display and shoulders high up to relay his dissatisfaction at Sicheng. Except it just looked funny because he just squinted his eyes at him that it ruined the entire intimidation and made Sicheng giggle.

“I am your hyung and you always do this to me.” He muttered in a voice much deeper than it usually is, probably from how he just woke up and what a cotton mouth he had from binge-drinking whisky when he found the clump of hair clogging the shower drain that he found was probably Sicheng shedding. No one told him to check and clean it, Sicheng mocked him and Taeyong only threatened to replace Sicheng’s ice cream with dog food if he kept it up.

“Well, now that’s abuse of authority.” Sicheng pouted, eyes round as he looked up his lashes that he knew Taeyong was weak for “Don’t you think you’re harsh to little old me?”

“Don’t give me puppy eyes, you little brat,” Taeyong warned when he walked closer to the couch Sicheng had made a nest of blankets and pillows as he watched a movie that was in Chinese. Taeyong’s scowl worsened when he found some bread crumbs on the sheets before freezing, nostrils flaring as he took a whiff “Are you fucking eating garlic bread?”

Sicheng smiled innocently “It’s a protest,” he tilted his head in a cute manner that Taeyong tried to not let his lips curl to a smile too “And it’s freaking delicious. Let me live.”

“Let me live, he says,” Taeyong mocked in a petulant tone and Sicheng kicked his leg in retaliation “What about little ol’ me, huh?”

The younger -by many years if Taeyong would count their actual lifespans-waved him off with a flick of his wrist “Garlic does nothing to you. Hell, you’re more scared of your finals than those cloves.” He swept his arm across the breadcrumb tainted sheets, making sure it is free of any traces of it before he patted beside him.

Taeyong’s eyebrows raised so much they looked like caterpillars about to fly off his face.

Sicheng ignored the very tempting idea to laugh like a hyena and make fun of Taeyong but he doesn’t do either because he is a wolf not a hyena and Taeyong’s starting to nod off again. Considering it’s about eight in the morning and the elder had slept at six to finish some requirement that was only done at those hours, Sicheng almost feels sorry for waking up. He is also not that keen on being pinned down and bitten as a warning because Taeyong, the weirdo, thought his blood was decent for a werewolf that made all those talk about vampires hating werewolf blood made no sense.

It could be Sicheng’s fault too for egging Taeyong but it’s all harmless fun.  

“Rest, hyung.” He said, softer than he intended because he can see Taeyong’s fight melt out of him when he isn’t being annoying on purpose to see how long the vampire would snap. It’s a secret weapon he has paired with his adorable face and making people putty with a smile,  his tail wagging behind him instead of being  tucked close when Taeyong was thinking of ways to neuter him.

Sicheng doesn’t protest when Taeyong slid his hand behind one of his silken ears, scratching lightly with pointed nails colored black as Sicheng smiled before he slid down beside him with his head resting on Sicheng’s lap like they did sometimes because Sicheng is a good pillow, Taeyong would say.

“I’m confiscating your ice cream portion in the daily budget.”

“Now that’s just playing dirty.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sichecng asked for:  
> Canon compliant (non!au) soulmates taewin! au. Where they now that they're soulmates but never really acknowledge it

His pulse is quick, a frightened pace that he doesn’t understand. It’s something he’s only read before from the picture books but it’s not like this: heavy in his ribcage and he knows the warmth on his face is not from the coldness of the air-conditioning.

Taeyong smiles at him, moving his hand out of the red thread he wrapped around his fingers to hold the hand Sicheng unconsciously reached over to shake. It’s not even electric like how he imagined it to be but it’s calming, his senses zeroing on the way that their hands fit and he’s breathless when he meets the elder’s eyes that there is nothing else he would rather think about than this moment.

He asks without even thinking, not even stopping himself because he is so lost in the waves of emotion that washes over him from this person he barely knows, lost in his own mind to translate properly.

“Are you mine?” He needs confirmation, have a semblance of clarity where he can make sure it’s not his mind playing tricks on him. Sicheng is always thinking about the idea of soulmates, always wondering about the possibilities how he would meet them when he learned about them at a young age and being fascinated with the idea that you would find someone who fits you like a lock to a key. Being your other half while being your equal, it was so vague he thought he would have a hard time pinpointing it.

But then, here it is. In a strange country with a language he’s still trying to grasp, the industry he entered considered a complicated network where nothing is what it seemed and the way that it seemed ill-timed was something that he didn’t expect.

Sicheng once mistook attraction for the magnetism that soulmates carried but despite the way that Taeyong is unreal with how he is handsome and the way he carries himself, Sicheng realizes that he is more entranced with his eyes. They were dark, guarded for him to know what he might be thinking and when he opens his mouth, quick and unaffected but his voice is so affectionate he is afraid that he will collapse with how the air is having a hard time coming into his lungs.

“Yes, I’m yours.”

His eyes are still on his and he can see the way that his mouth twitches like he wants to laugh. The story in his eyes tells another, hesitation a touch almost close to bubbling to the surface but he hides it with a well-meaning chuckle and a light shake of his hand.

They don’t talk about it. Let it be the elephant in the room as they maneuver themselves around each other, unconsciously drawn to each other even when it’s something as simple as Taeyong helping him with something or him walking to his side because he felt much more comfortable with him even with Yuta hanging over his shoulder.

They laugh about the way that people see the way Taeyong babies Sicheng as cute, that it’s like a father to their son and the members would tease them that Sicheng always has this aura about him that makes people want to take care of him.

During these moments, Sicheng would look at Taeyong and then, so would he that their eyes meet. The softness in his eyes lingers when he is given a shy smile and Sicheng has to break away from the group with a lie he needed to breathe.  His palms are sweaty that he rubs them on his jeans and he can’t really calm down when Taeyong’s gaze burns against the nape of his neck.

They drift apart on camera.

It was for the best but Sicheng still looks at Taeyong, wonders if they will ever speak about it and now, instead of looking into his eyes like he does when he is caught staring, he ducks down from humiliation and lets himself be steered off by anyone of the members.  Perhaps he’s a fool but he doesn’t trust himself enough to go up to him to ask those words again that brought them together.

Sicheng knows that everything is lost.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked:  
> jealous! Taeyong abt dowin whispers at that nct mini life quiz??

It’s entirely for show, he reminds himself.

Slow calm breaths, he reminds himself. He doesn’t know how he looks on the video when it comes out online for their fans but he is pretty much doing a damn good job trying to hide his displeasure. Slow breaths, inhale, and exhale until his mind isn’t muddled with wanting to shove someone, preferably a certain someone not only to get a lead on pressing the call bell to answer. Certainly it’s always just something natural, no malice and played for fun which he still does with the others anyways. Taeyong is rational when it comes to broadcasts and the image he has to preserve that he can’t just snap at someone for no reason at all.

“Who likes me?” Winwin’s question was an open invitation and their eyes met for a split second that made him freeze but then Doyoung butted in without any qualms, calling over loudly.

“If you choose me, you’ll win!”

Taeyong wrung his hands, laughing because one, it’s half-true and two, because he can see the shining determination in Winwin’s face as he decided on Dongyoung, his roommate. He can see Yuta looking a bit disappointed probably wanting to be Winwin’s partner too but in the end, old friends reunite and he’s okay with having the Japanese male as his partner for this game.

Until Doyoung slid his arm around Winwin’s shoulder, pulling closer as he whispered way too close than what is considered friendly. He could be wrong, it could have been that really because these two wanted to win and having others overhear their answer wasn’t an option but it looked a little too invasive. Not that Winwin even realized because he wanted to win either way and they both needed to say the answers.

“Oh, are you kissing!” Taeyong looked at Yuta from the corner of his eye, agape and in disbelief he would point it out as Doyoung moved so close it could look just that and Jaehyun is looking quite sulky at the sight too. The two of them made eye contact before they screamed like they were scandalized just to play off what they were really thinking. Taeyong doesn’t really want to dwell too much on the little irritation in his gut when as the game progressed longer, Doyoung decided to sweep Winwin off his feet in joy when they won and Taeyong wasn’t looking.

Taeyong isn’t jealous of it at all. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life and death personifications au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was venting

He suffocates.

It’s an annoying notion, the way his airways are betraying him as his lungs beg for mercy. He pants as if quick, short gulps of air could ease the closing of his throat and aid his breathing. It makes it worse, hands coming up to scratch at his throat to _help_ him take in the oxygen he is deprived of.

He’s not seeing clearly, glazed vision barely seeing anything but colors that move hypnotically. There’s someone’s hand that tilts his chin, his gasping mouth covered and he panics. Please let him breathe, he yells inside his mind but nothing comes out but a whimper as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Shh, shh.” 

A gentle voice whispers against his tongue as they breathed into his mouth. It stung, the warm air that rushes into his windpipe but as he continued giving him the air he craved, he stilled. There’s the soothing presence that calms his racing heart as he greedily sucks in every bit of air offered to him, tasting life in a way that he can’t explain. It smells like comfort, it smells like a forest after a heavy storm. He felt the massages of thin fingers against his throat that he realized he must have drawn blood in his panic.

“Hush now. It’ll be alright.”

He doesn’t think twice to trust the voice, his desperation for life making him bargain with anything out there willing to give it to him. As his lungs found relief, his heartbeat calming down, he can now remember everything that has happened.

Hands that crushed his throat, his eyes rolling to the back of his lids as he gasped desperately with spit spilling down his lips because he couldn’t control his body anymore. It was panic that turned his insides toxic, nauseous because he knew he wasn’t going to survive this. He fluttered his eyes closed then yet here he was now.

There’s an outline of a face now that his eyesight is clearing, a pretty nose and white eyelashes fanning over taut cheeks that accentuated a good bone structure. Strands of the same snow white hair with ends tinted lilac brushed against his forehead, the quick exhales turning to slow drags to help him ground himself.

Sicheng snapped his eyes open and the man detached his lips from his, a self-satisfied smile resting on his lips. He’s ethereal, glowing even in the darkness of the night but even when the rest of him was full of life, Sicheng finds himself afraid. From his long off white robe, the lavender ends brushing against the ground, his weird suit that was changing colors like a prism against the unnatural white of the fabric, Sicheng would have thought he was saved by an angel. His hand, the tips freckled with white, caressed his cheek fondly.

But his eyes are dark, burning the same way stars do. Dying with every glimmer as it exhausts itself.

“Isn’t it wonderful? You’re like me now.”

Sicheng hid the sob he made with the back of his hand, horrified when he finds the tips of his fingers speckled black almost like the other’s. He’s not wearing his old clothes, dark robes covering his hand to the knuckles while with the suit that was fitted to him, he wore shorts and long socks with his riding boots. He wasn’t wearing this before, he didn’t have his hands marked like this before and he’s afraid his hair is black instead of the dyed red hue he sported before.

Suddenly, death sounded so much better than whatever this is.

The white-haired male chuckled, still touching Sicheng’s cheek that he felt sick to his stomach. “Shh, you always liked the dark, didn’t you? I’m giving you what I wanted.”

“You don’t know what I want,” Sicheng sucked a breath, hating the taste of the earth and the flowers that stayed in his mouth. The memories are coming back to him in a flash: white robes that followed his dreams, the call of a voice like a siren’s song that it led to him being caught in a trap that’s been set ever since he stumbled into the forest where no one was allowed in “You never cared what I-”

His face is seized, pulled close to the white-haired male’s own as his eyes pooled with the intensity of a black hole as if he wanted to swallow Sicheng whole “This is the shock talking. Earning Death as a role can make you be affected by every aspect of it. But pessimism doesn’t suit you, Sicheng. Smile.”

Taeyong governs life and he prioritizes living in the way that he sees fit. The self-satisfaction he carried around is toxic, almost an unhealthy codependency where he thinks everyone wants to live no matter what they are going through. His mind is too caught on the mana that he can’t control, light blinding him as much as it blinded everyone else.

Sicheng doesn’t know what he meant by death as a role. But he knew there’s ash in his lungs, spider lilies that crush against his still heart that faded as he realized he hasn’t breathed for the passing seconds. His mind is filled with thoughts that aren’t his own, painful little whispers of shadows that crawl like liquid filling him with despair, misery and relief all at the same time.

He felt like dying all over again.

Except this time, he can’t escape it no matter how hard he tried.

Taeyong hovered over him, calming and yet a chaotic presence as he kissed him once more. Sicheng could taste the life, the fire that burned deeply and he weeps.

“It is me and you to the end of time.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Mythological AU. Tengu Johnny and Human Winwin. Discontinued for personal reasons.

Sicheng is a mere commoner.

He’s been raised with humility, parents rice farmers who taught him about the things you need to survive in a community where there was a corrupt system and superstition was treated as a law. Sicheng wears ratty clothes made from leftover fabric the village tailor gave his family because of the time Sicheng helped him carry them, his muddy fingers staining the pretty cloths that he took pity on the boy and gave it to him. He used to wear a sack with a string as a belt so having something that covers his knees and arms were a blessing that he thanked the spirits for before he went to sleep.

But as he grew up, the clothes get shorter for his maturing body. He’s eleven with his clothes already are too tight for him and he doesn’t get new ones until he is given clothes by a wandering man with a smile that made the girls frolic to his side with admiration but his eyes stayed on him instead. Sicheng didn’t know how to refuse this foreign man when he lavished gifts to him that his family was afraid he wasn’t a good person because Sicheng knew that no one could be this kind.

Who would ever believe a grown man giving a child gifts without having other intentions?

But the man gave him clothes and food and coins that could last them for a month before he tipped his hat at him to leave for the next village. He wanted Sicheng to guide him to the crossroads inside the forest a few paces away from the village and out of courtesy, Sicheng did.

“Sicheng, you are very beautiful.” The man, whose name he didn’t know because he never said it, sighed in admiration. His name not being given was already a red flag, the dismissal of his friends and family for it making Sicheng wonder what is going on.

“Thank you.” He replied because he can’t think of anything to say. Men aren’t beautiful and Sicheng certainly isn’t worth the compliment. His hair is a rat’s nest with how it was covered with leaves and wisps of wood from where he was looking at the tree harvesters. His clothes were still the old ones, reaching above his thighs that he caught the man looking over them once in a while because of the bandage around his knee and he has yet to take a bath that he still has mud tracked across his cheek.

The smile is still on the man’s face, long robes made of better material and layered that was only found in richer backgrounds. His earrings were gold, a glimmering sapphire ring on the middle finger of his right hand that he raised to use his thumb to wipe away the mud off.

Sicheng felt a shiver run down his spine.

“I can just eat you up.” The man didn’t blink and his smile widened when Sicheng’s eyes looked at the ground bashfully. His mother used to say that about his cheeks and Sicheng knew she was merely joking around so he might be as well.

They continued walking, the forest strangely quiet as they made it across the stream where Sicheng almost slipped if not for the man holding his shoulder to help him balance back on the stones that made a path. He didn’t voice out why the edges of the man’s robes weren’t soaked when Sicheng knew the water reached his bare ankles. The man’s smile is becoming unnerving as his eyes turned to crescents, daring him to say something.

His hand doesn’t leave Sicheng’s shoulder until they find themselves on the dirt road that forked to a darker path that led to the next village to which he lets go to turn to Sicheng fully. He tilted his head when Sicheng flinched and walked back, eyes wide.

“Sicheng, it was very lovely to meet you. I thought I wouldn’t see anything memorable in this trip but you’re a wonderful surprise,” the way he said it was like honey, sweet and lulling that it sent Sicheng’s heart beating faster but not because he was flustered “I always like surprises.”

Sicheng knew that tone. It’s the same tone his father used when he was trying to sweet talk his mother when they ate dinner, their little affections making him happy because they were so ridiculous. But this man is a stranger, not someone he knew for so long and he is talking to Sicheng like he was his lover.

“Come closer.” He said, eyes twinkling with mischief and Sicheng doesn’t know if he should run away when his eyes pick up a shadow behind the man, flickering in and out like it’s swaying.

Sicheng gulped, fear paralyzing him as the man cupped his jaw to tilt his head down. He brushes away the strands of hair, lightly pressing a kiss on his forehead that tickled when he moved away. “Excuse me-“

“Hm, perfect.” He said, staring at Sicheng with glowing eyes that made the boy stumble back.

The man shushed him with a finger on his lips, moving backwards without breaking Sicheng’s stare and said “Don’t tell anyone of it, okay? It’s our secret,” he tilted his head with the biggest grin that showcased a set of canines that had Sicheng reeling back “Take care, my pretty bird.”

Sicheng blinked and the man was gone.

 It’s like one of those stories his father liked to talk about, the hearsays that he warned Sicheng about during dinner and emphasizing the dangers of them. Folklore passed down from generation to generation that the village has a sector of their storage of scrolls and books about them for people to read. Sicheng’s father spoke of mischievous spirits that whisked people who had done them wrong, about supernatural deities who punished anyone who disrespected them or their homes as well as spirits who fancied humans that they’d take them away without any consent.

Sicheng knew how they started and ended. The spirit would disguise themselves into rich men and have women flocking them before they chose one they would deem fit enough to drain their energy from but Sicheng almost lost his breath when he started hearing laughter through the forest in contrast to the sounds he heard before.

There’s no hesitation in his steps as he ran like hell back to the village.

His father greeted him with a worried look, touching his arms and shoulders to look over if he was injured “He wasn’t human.”

Sicheng nodded, still blank from what just happened and he stared at the gifts that was on their floor, stacked neatly. “What do we do?”

His mother bit her lip, pulling at her sleeves as she too thought about the consequences of throwing away gifts of a spirit. “Would he know if we throw it away?”

His father shook his head “Do you want a curse to befall us? If he managed to make us believe he was human until he left our village to get what he wanted then we shouldn’t incur his wrath. He chose Sicheng,” he looked back to him “What did he do when you were alone?”

“We were so scared of you being taken away that we prayed to the Gods. Are you feeling anything strange?” his mother is on the brink of tears as she held his hand, making sure her only son was still here and not an illusion.

Sicheng recalled the words that the man said, smile so haunting that he can’t erase it from his mind and gulped “No. He just told me to take care,” he chuckled “I ran away before he could bid goodbye.”

“Good, good.” His mother whispered, massaging his knuckles to feel better.

His father too took a deep breath “If he had blessed you, we would have needed to cleanse you before he came back for you.” He hugged him close, shaking as well.

Having your child whisked away by a spirit was the worst punishment to his village because no matter how much pleading you do to the Gods, spirits aren’t known to be very thoughtful of human’s feelings.

Sicheng doesn’t have the heart to tell the truth.

The feeling of those lips sealing his fate still stings on his forehead even when he has fallen asleep on his rattan mat. He thought about visiting the shrine to pray because he doesn’t know what else to do on something that he didn’t know what to do.

He has nightmares of a fox following him through the forest, glowing eyes trying to catch the exact moment where they could whisk him away.

 

“Brother, come back!” Chenle called for him from the edge of the creek, tiny legs trying to catch up to him but only looking like a waddling duck.

Sicheng huffed at the sight of his little brother and let go of the tunic he was trying to scrub with a rock, heaving the smaller boy so he rested on his shoulder. Chenle giggled at the sudden height, securely keeping his hands on Sicheng’s hair to help him balance as the latter walked back to finish what he was doing. Chenle is placed beside him on the flat rock in a way that the current wouldn’t be able to take him away but he was comfortable enough to sit.

“Chenle, didn’t I say to wait for me?”

The boy puffed his chubby cheeks, looking as endearing as a treasure when he crossed his arms “No. You said if Lele was good, you’d play. Lele was good but you’re still washing here.”

His brother wasn’t used to not having him by his side, a habit he needed to help him get out of lest he’d never manage to do anything without him by his side. “But Chenle, what would you wear if your clothes are dirty? You complain about itching a lot.”

Chenle didn’t budge, pouting still as he looked to the distance to appear angry. But he’s not and Sicheng can’t help but pinch his cheeks despite the wetness of his fingers. The younger squeaked in annoyance, slapping his hand away “Brother, please hurry.”

“Okay, okay,” Sicheng teased as he rinsed the remaining clothing, wringing water out of them before placing Chenle around his shoulders again while he carried the wooden basin filled with clothes in his arms “Hold on, alright?”

Chenle only wrapped his arms as much as he could around Sicheng’s neck as he waddled through the creek, careful not to slip on the rocks at the bank and ignoring the strange way that Chenle kept looking over his shoulder. He always did that when they were near water that Sicheng is afraid that he might be thinking of something stupid like playing there by his own again.

“Brother, do you think father will let me play near the forest again?”

Well, then. “If you ask nicely.” He replied with a teasing tone, knowing well that he would still need to be with Chenle because the boy didn’t connect well with other children. He was too mature for his age, at a mere six he had managed to be better at trading goods and weighing resources than Sicheng could ever dream about. He’s a smart kid that Sicheng is proud of every time he hears the boy ask questions about things he didn’t understand.

They walked leisurely, Chenle talking about the flowers he would pick for his mother for her birthday and Sicheng talking about if Chenle wasn’t careful that he would get fever from the poisonous flowers that grew in the forests that were deceiving to the unaware eye.

“Would you help me pick?” Chenle asked, moving down when they were near the village as Sicheng is having a hard time carrying him and the laundry. He held onto Sicheng’s clothes, walking in pace with him as the elder propped the basin on his hip to aid him “Father always said you knew the forest better.”

Sicheng wanted to laugh but he nodded still. He’d do anything for Chenle, heart filled with joy when the little boy beamed at him with gratitude.

They arrived home, their father still working in the fields and their mother is making some soup to feed them. She’s looking at them with curiosity, eyes narrowing at Sicheng who placed the basin back on the side “Did you go to the forest again? And with Chenle?” she said, weary like she’s said it again and again but Sicheng never listened.

He smiled sheepishly, taking the clothes out to hang out to dry on the space between their windows where the sun was the brightest. “It is safer now,” he replied and winced when she gave him a scathing look.

“Do you know you’re putting both you and your brother in danger?”

Sicheng took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down before he started to disrespect his mother. She meant well after all these years, even managing to let him walk outside without so many trinkets to help him stay away from spirits but ever since Chenle was born, her paranoia escalated because she was scared both her children would be taken. “Mother, please calm down,” he held her close, feeling her shake and he sighed “It’s been six years. They can’t come back now.”

She didn’t seem convinced but she patted his back to let her go as she finished cooking “Your father wants some herbs in this soup so be a dear and fetch some from the temple.” She said as she mixed more carrots into the broth.

Chenle immediately latched onto his hand and Sicheng smiled at him. “Fetch your slippers. You just washed your feet.”

As they made the entire walk to the temple that was on the hill north of the village, Sicheng thought about the man from six years ago with his deceptive smile and unearthly eyes. He didn’t believe that he had truly lost that man, someone he could swear was a kitsune now because of the fox that haunted his dreams that never went away even as he grew older. There was always the eerie feeling of someone following him wherever he went, the stares that he swore were there even when he was alone and how he would always hear sounds that didn’t belong in his surroundings. Sicheng could distantly recall the one time he fell into a ditch by the mountains when he ventured too far into the forest, going to the wrong direction that he injured himself and got lost as well.

The thing that helped him found his way back were the wisps.

The wisps that glowed blue in the dimness of the light and he had to lean to a stick to manage to follow them back to where the fork on the road started. Except he was so sure this wasn’t the right path but when he turned around, all traces of what transpired vanished. It still sent a shiver down his spine to know that he will never escape that one kiss given to him by fox spirit.

Chenle didn’t know about it but Sicheng is afraid.

His mark, unnoticed by the naked eye, was a beacon for other spirits to find him. It may not choose to harm him in fear of angering the kitsune but it will attack the family members to sustain itself.

Chenle was sickly as a baby, barely surviving fever when he was but a few months old and the monks advised his family to pray. Sicheng had prayed on the shrine for hours on end to do something for his brother, falling asleep from exhaustion on the stone steps in front of the deity statue. He was begging the Gods for help through tears and then he heard what sounded like chiming bells that woke him from his slumber. Sicheng could remember the young boy inside the temple leaning with his hand on a pillar staring at him. He gasped as an apology was almost out of his mouth but the boy smiled with endearingly crooked teeth before running back inside. The bells silenced and Sicheng went home to hear the news that due to some lucky occurrence, his brother was healed. A miracle, they said it was and Sicheng realized what he saw had given him luck.

He gave offerings to the temple after that, telling them about the boy and the monks furrowed their brows because no such boy existed there.

Sicheng knew that, however.

Chenle might have been liked and he’s scared for him.

“Brother, do we have a zashiki warashi in our house?” Chenle said out of the blue as they walked up the vast steps that led to the entrance of the gate of the temple. He struggled to match Sicheng’s steps so he needed to be extra careful how big his steps were. Sicheng hummed, used to Chenle asking the most ridiculous questions with no reason and furrowed his brows.

“What is that, Lele?”

Chenle huffed, angry that his brother didn’t know but Sicheng laughed at him “It’s a spirit of the house. They give good luck and bring prosperity to the family. I read about them with amefurikozo and that they are children like me.” He said, proud of himself when Sicheng seemed astonished about his knowledge.

“Interesting. Why do you think we have one?”

“Because mother said I became healthy for no reason and it must be because a zashiki warashi blessed us,” he smiled so much is cheeks filled and his eyes disappeared that Sicheng doesn’t have the heart to break it “I want to play with them. I’m sure they are nice.”

It was so like a child to think that way, their innocent ideals always making them perfect targets. Sicheng held Chenle’s hand tighter and promised himself he wouldn’t let anything happen to him. His parents are already suffering enough with him for all these years. They make it to the very top of the stairs, Chenle taking in the sights before he lets Sicheng pull him to a monk who is sweeping beside the Jizo statue. His face broke out to a smile when he recognized the other.

“Kun.”

Kun looked up in surprise, small smile spreading on his face when he saw who it was. “Sicheng,” he bowed and then leaned down with his hands on his knees “Chenle, as well.”

Chenle rushed to hug him, the monk in training chuckling as he hugged him back with one arm that wasn’t holding the broom. Sicheng doesn’t know how Kun still looked intimidating even with his monk attire on, the beads around his neck clattering when he let go of Chenle “I’m glad I caught you before you went to your duties.”

Kun rolled his eyes “You just find it easier to persuade me than the older monks here. It’s alright, Sicheng. I know I’m not missed for you merely visit me when you need herbs.” He teased with his smile never fading and Sicheng recalled liking that little tilt of his lips when he was thirteen. He recalled Kun wrapping a blanket around his shoulders after he saw the boy run off, fourteen and under the guidance of the temple to become a monk after he was orphaned at a young age. These days, his attraction to him simmered down to a counsel and close friend who never failed to know more than what Sicheng would say.

“Is there anything else you need?” Kun asked looking over to Sicheng as the latter scoffed.

“I don’t know. Is there?” Kun shoved him playfully before he walked around the statue to probably head to the gardens were they grew the plants and vegetables they used to sustain themselves. “You can stay inside if you want. I’ll serve you tea before you go.”

Ever hospitable, Sicheng thought and Chenle is already rushing to the sliding doors with a giggle. “Chenle!” he shrieked, running after the boy who managed to arrange his slippers as he bolted through the halls like an excitable puppy. Sicheng grumbled under his breath, placing his slippers next to Chenle’s before he tried to round the corner to follow his brother.

The temples were large, filled with rotating halls that showcased trimmed trees that grew high over the roof that they made rustling sounds when the wind blew across them with their branches scratching against the stone bricks. Sicheng inhaled the cool, crisp air before he returned to finding his brother who had managed to walk to the same jizo statue that Sicheng prayed to and playing with the water from the koi pond. He’s about to scold him for getting his clothes wet as well as having mud on the soles of his feet he will track on the wooden floor but Chenle ran past him without him noticing and went to one of the rooms.

“Chenle, stay still!” he called as loud as he could inside the temple, feet pattering to follow Chenle’s foot falls and sighed when he found the boy resting in a familiar room where the monks entertained guests. It was a small room with tatami mats and paper binders that were used as separating walls for the next area as a sign of respect and a tiny dressing area if monks dirtied their robes when serving guests. Chenle has stopped running about to stare at the corner of the room where the sliding door was half-opened, smile bright.

“Brother, do you think they have a zashiki warashi here?” he asked, still looking at the corner that he almost leaned his whole body to the direction of it.

“Chenle, behave.” Sicheng scolded, sitting down on one of the cushions as Kun came back with a tray in one hand and a basket of herbs slung over his shoulder. He placed the tray on the small table, careful that he didn’t drop the three cups and heavy pot of tea.

Kun handed the basket over to Sicheng, smiling “Here they are. I threw in some tomatoes in there for Chenle so he would get some more vitamins.” He ruffled the boy’s hair, sitting down in front of Sicheng to pour some tea onto the cups while holding the lid of the pot down.

“Thank you, Kun. Chenle, say your thanks as well.” Sicheng said and Chenle followed, accepting the cup of tea with both his hands. Sicheng graciously got the one offered to him, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine and staring at the bobbing line on the surface of it. Good luck was upon him it seemed.

“So, why do you think we have our own spirit here, Chenle?” Kun asked, making Sicheng pause from sipping his tea to look at his brother whose face brightened.

“The ash footsteps!”

This made Kun’s eyebrows rise up, turning to where Chenle is pointing with his chin right to the door left ajar and there on the floorboards leading inside were a pair of dusty, soot foot prints that belonged to a child. It wasn’t Chenle for sure because Sicheng was with him the whole time and had kept the boy still so it is understandable why Sicheng’s face loses color at the sight.

Kun laughed, hiding the concerned look he shared with Sicheng as Chenle burned his tongue on his tea.

There was a warning in his eyes when he spoke to Sicheng before they left with the herbs about being careful with going anywhere without a charm because of how his aura always felt strong enough to attract spirits. Kun tucked a small sewn charm that he made himself into Sicheng’s palm with a sad look on his face that never left Sicheng’s mind.

“Be safe.” He warned and Sicheng could only nod in response as he held Chenle’s hand tighter at the shadow moving from the corner of the inside of the temple’s many rooms as if peering at them.

 

Sicheng tucked his brother to his bed, making sure the sheet was up his chin to fend off the cold of the night. He stood up to blow out the lantern next to his bed, engulfing the room in darkness just as Chenle turned over his side with a small whine. The talisman around Chenle’s neck glistened under the small stream of light filtering through the gaps of the windows, Kun’s gift before they left for his protection. He’s concerned about Chenle being liked by a spirit, especially since he believed that the boy’s recovery as a baby was widespread as supernatural in itself.

Sicheng touched his forehead. He may not have been possessed by a kitsune but he’s been chosen by one that someone spiritually inclined like Kun can see that his life already has an ending to it; an end where he doesn’t see his family ever again and lose a part of his soul because he was stupid enough to be fancied by a spirit.

He went to his futon, bundling the blankets on his chest as he stared out the gap on the whole where he can see the outline of leaves from the outside. Sicheng wondered what would have happened had that spirit never visited his village and saw him. Would Chenle not survive that night because he couldn’t see the zashiki warashi? Would his family succumb to poverty without the gifts? The pros of his situation were ideal but all legends ended the same after his father told them.

He fell asleep thinking about the men and women who suffered after incurring the wrath of the Gods for their disrespect to the spirits associated with them.

 

His father once met a tengu.

It was a story that he shared every once in a while with the village children who were very eager to learn about the spirits that they were warned about by their parents. They swarmed around Sicheng’s house, giggling amongst each other as his father sat down on the wooden chair carving a stick to sharpen the edge as he spoke.

“When I was young,” he started with a grave tone, looking over the children who cowered “I thought I was so brave that I roamed the woods after sunset. I used to follow the trail before I began to see that there was something in an abandoned path that I never noticed before.”

Sicheng stopped sweeping for a moment to look at the hush that spread over the children as his father raised the sharpened stick. “I strayed off the path because I didn’t think about why that path was there and followed it to find an old shrine, the seals on the stone fraying and the rock has been cracked across the middle,” he made the children flinch when he pointed the stick at them “I remember feeling cold. And the sound of the forests disappeared as I heard the flapping of wings.”

A little girl moved closer to her friend, whispering in worry as Sicheng sighed before continuing to sweep the leaves away from their yard. His father had paused, looking up the sky with a glazed look in his eyes. “You should have seen the way it flew over my head, the shock making me step back and slip to hit my head on the rock. I saw the long nose and the large black wings looming over me and woke up in the temple steps.”

The children squealed when his father suddenly stood up and they laughed when they saw the teasing smile on his face. “Now, get home. Before the tengu tries to punish you.”

Sicheng shook his head at the story because always knew that he was beyond saving and another spirit wasn’t going to matter to his life in the long run. It would put him in more danger if he thought about it anyways. The woods weren’t safe and he feared of going back to the temple lest the zashiki warashi would visit him again to demand for his brother’s life after the blessing it gave. Their unpredictability made Sicheng keep his guards up that he would never break any rules set by his family for him.

One, never go out after sundown on his own or without a talisman around his neck. Two, do not engage in anything that was out of the ordinary. If his gut warned him of the dangers, he would listen to it. Three, always follow the paths that were already marked so as to not let the spirits make you lose your way home. And fourth, the most important rule is to never speak to a spirit even if they notice you. They cannot track you if you do not give them any way to and Sicheng memorized these to the very last syllable.

His stitched charm bag was always tucked under his collar secured with a rope around his neck and he always kept his attention diverted when he saw shadows shifting on the corner of his eye. He made sure to be very familiar with his surroundings when he came to the forest and followed the paths his father showed him and despite how so many cold chills that crawled down his spine, he never looked over his shoulder or call out to investigate.

He’s been good for the last six years. He’ll be of age by next week and he can serve in the temple where it would be safer for him to live with the monks, blessed by them enough to keep the kitsune who marked him away for as long as they can. He can’t wash in the holy springs and be cleansed by the priestess unless he was examined by the monks to give him their blessings to take away the evil stain in his soul.

Sicheng’s just worried about his family, especially Chenle who doesn’t know anything and at such a young age he is attached to Sicheng’s hip that leaving him would tear Sicheng’s heart into two.

Which is why when he managed to get lost, Sicheng started re-evaluating his life choices.

The woods felt different to him this time around, carrying his basket for the berries he would be picking from this bush he discovered a few paces away that he saw while he was washing his clothes. It was tall, branches heavy with ripe red berries that he could almost feel the way they’d spill when he squeezed them on his palm. It was a little off the trail he discovered as he walked through the mismatched path that was more dirt than the few weeds and herbs that covered the ground, just peeking behind what seemed to be a collection of rocks that was shaped in a way that suggested it was once intact to a bigger rock. He doesn’t know why it would be broken but he’s long stopped asking questions he rather not have the answer to and looked behind him, to see that the entrance of the forest is a little over the view that it calmed him.

“Chenle might want some with his milk.” He told himself, wanting to make his brother happy and sucked a deep breath before moving out the path.

The grass tickled his bare ankles and he made sure the hem of his robe didn’t reach the wayward hitchhiker plants that would be a mess to get out his clothes. Sicheng stopped when he noticed that right where the rock is anchored is a ledge that would need him to go to his hands to get down of, the bush situated right at the side of the small depression of land that he’s never noticed before. “The storm must have corroded more land than I thought,” he mused as he placed his basket to make sure he didn’t get his hands dirty and slowly stepped down on a large root as leverage before he descended down holding onto the other vines around the walls of it.

“It’s strange for a bush to grow here too.”

There’s an escalating sense of dread that climbed up Sicheng’s mind that when he heard a rustle, he whipped his head behind him fearing for the worst. It was common knowledge that he is never alone in these woods even when it’s still daylight but he clutched his chest when he saw that it was just a rabbit that went out its burrow to dive into the bushes.

“Idiot.” He scolded himself once more as he picked his basket up from the top and huffing to the bush.

He was right about the berries being ripe. Every time he plucked them out of their stems with ease, there would be a tinge of pink left by their skin on his fingers that he wiped them on his robe to ensure he didn’t slip any fruit out of his grasp and waste them. He can’t reach to the topmost part of the bushes after he cleared where he could manage to get and looked at the berries in his basket that didn’t even fill much. Without any second thought, he began moving to the side of the bush where he could find more to pick and he hummed a tune while he did to get rid of the unnerving silence that seemed to overcome this place.

No sounds of birds’ wings fluttering, the rustle of the leaves when the wind blew and not even the sound of the forests that he has grown to use as a safety blanket over the years. It’s just his footsteps when he stepped on twigs, his deep aimless humming and the snap he got when he pulled too hard on a stem.

Sicheng’s heart began to fasten its beating. He’s almost got what he needed and he can finally go back to the ledge to call it a day before it was sundown. He can do this.

There is no warning as he tripped over a loose root that he dived face first into the bush.

“Ack!” he sputtered as he used his hands to shield the basket from spilling the berries and stopping anything from grazing him before he tried to twist himself out of the labyrinth of leaves, fruit and thin branches that snapped at him when he moved. Sicheng tried to reel back but he lost his footing instead that he can only push forward enough as he is spat out of the bush on the other side of it. The heavy smell of sweetness and the stickiness of his clothes indicated he just squished some of his berries but he can finally breathe so he’s thankful for that at least.

A whistle broke the silence that Sicheng almost gasped out loud before he slapped a hand over his mouth to stop it.

There’s a shrine right in front of him, facing away but Sicheng recognized the hewn gate that looked like it was about to give out with how it hung by the hinges and the sacred rope that was worse for wear that it was almost slipping down the cracked rock. He can feel the silence come back full force, foreboding that he felt watched. He picked himself up to walk closer to the item, gulping because with every step he made closer did his mind want him to run away.

There isn’t much that he can say as he is walking past the gate that he fixed back to its hinges so it wouldn’t look so pitiful and stared at the rock to take in what was happening.

“Forgive me for the trouble,” he said to the air as Kun always instructed him when he was near holy ground even when it seemed like it was abandoned. Sicheng resisted the urge to run his fingers on the rock because he might disturb it and looked down at his juice-stained fingers red that might have contaminated it.

Carefully, he ripped a part of his robe that was not soaked in the sticky liquid to bunch up to a makeshift little bowl that he placed right on top of the rock before he poured out some of the berries in his basket. It filled until he saw that it would topple off the brim and he still has enough to give Chenle that the boy wouldn’t whine about it. It’s better to appease the gods of the mountains if they were to visit here once more. He doesn’t care about his punishment because he’s already cursed beyond saving but he knew that the gods would find ways to hurt someone close to his heart.

They were sometimes cruel, lacking human morality because they see them as nothing but fickle things that can be replaced.

He bowed mostly out of reflex as he turned around but not knowing if he should walk back to the bush when he can feel the sting the scratches the branches made on his face. Sicheng knew that if he were to go through that way he could risk being sabotaged if anyone were to appear on the shrine but if he went the other way then he’d end up getting lost.

Sicheng can barely remember why he stated rules for himself. He hit himself lightly on the wrist for his stupidity that led him to this reckless behavior when he should have been more careful. But the berries were something he wanted to give Chenle so he could have a taste of it while they were in season.

He placed his hand on where the charm laid under his collar, feeling the bump before he walked out of the gate to find that his surroundings have changed.

“Oh no.” he whispered when he can’t find the bush he came through and just trees that surrounded it from behind. Sicheng turned to the other way to find that there is a dim light that shone through the silhouette of the forest. He can feel himself slowly panicking when he heard the sound of a flute in the distance that he must have alerted something with his presence. He sprinted into the trees despite the dread in his veins to hide behind some shrubbery to flip his clothes inside out. It’s a trick so he can’t be led astray by spirits and he started to walk towards what he deemed could be the path to only find that the wisps are not there to guide him.

This was something that worried him greatly.

“Whoever is there, I mean no harm,” He said, as even as his voice could muster to try to reason with something that may not even hear him out. Sicheng still wanted to go home and spend some more time with Chenle that he really doesn’t want to be whisked away too early but another spirit who had the luck to chance upon his unfortunate state “I come in peace.”

He doesn’t stop walking but the trees just continue to go on and on that he doesn’t really know where he is anymore. With the sunset approaching that bathed the shadows in an orange glow that made it seem like flames creeping against his skin when he walked, he doesn’t know how long it would take for him to faint from freight.

His clothes are uncomfortable against his skin from the drying sticky juice and he can already feel the mosquitoes trying to take a bite of his neck. There is really no hope for him that he is aimlessly taking twists and turns only to see the same trees over and over again. The panic is making his head spin that he slumped his back on a tree to regain his breathing when his heart is pumping wildly to try and give his head some oxygen. He’s dehydrated and hungry but he doesn’t want to eat anything lest he vomited it from the overwhelming worry that is clogging his senses.

“May you have mercy,” he choked out in a whisper because he doesn’t know what else to do.

There was an irony in that he managed to live for so long tormented by the kiss of a kitsune that he would die in the hands of the spirit dwelling in the mountain. His parents would be very disappointed in themselves for not teaching him to be more careful with his well-being after they had carefully instructed him to do his best to survive. What would Chenle ask when his brother is missing from the forest and everyone would gather in the temple to pray for Sicheng’s wayward soul? Would Chenle be taken away by the zashiki warashi that had given him his second chance as payment?

This made Sicheng grit his teeth and force himself off the tree, shaking his head.

He wasn’t going to let his brother suffer, not when he still can live. He’d rather die trying.

Sicheng glared into the endless trees surrounding him and tried to walk past another tree when he heard the flapping of wings that startled him to trip on a upturned root that snagged on his heel and sent him crashing down to the ground.

Acute pain comes rushing hot against his temple, followed by something dripping down the side of his forehead that sent his world spinning as he lay on the ground.

He hissed when he moved his head and more pain shot through his head, hand coming up to inspect that he can barely see the streak of blood on his fingertips. “Damn it all.” He muttered when his vision started to blacken at the edges and there’s a ringing that sounds eerily like wings flapping in his ears again.

There’s a pair of geta slipper-clad feet that approach him but he can barely keep his eyes open to properly register what it was doing there.

“Rest.” It was the last thing he heard along with the flutter of wings before he let himself sleep.

 

Sicheng woke up with a splitting headache, bandages wrapped around his head that he touched the moment he could properly open his eyes without the world looking like it was spinning around. There’re still traces of the pain that throbbed against his temple but it’s soothed down with the heavy scent of incense and a familiar minty aroma he can’t place. Possibly the salve that he has seen the monks grounding several herbs with a mortar until it became paste and they carried round in ornate round containers for any injured villager they find.

“Are you alright?” A child’s voice startled him upwards, the sudden motion making him gag and there’s a hand touching the small of his back to help him sit up. He felt the rim of a cup forced between his lips that he drank the water that’s being slowly poured into his mouth, not realizing he was thirsty until he’s still gulping down even as the cup is moved away. The voice chastised him “Careful, please.”

The boy is clearer in his vision, heavy robes different from the villagers’ modest ones layered that he wonders how he must walk in them but he found the tucked fabrics that show his bare feet. He zeroed in on the ashes that covered his soles, especially when he moved and Sicheng gasped. “You’re-“

There was something uncanny in the shy way that the zashiki-warashi smiled with his crooked teeth, tucking his hands into his sleeves and bowing “Forgive me for startling you but you must not move if you wish to not further hurt yourself more than necessary.”

He can’t help but stare at the cherry red hair that he isn’t used to seeing with how everyone is mostly brown or black-haired and he flinched when the spirit gingerly touched his bandages to see if they loosened. “How did I get here, um-“He doesn’t know how to address the spirit, mostly because asking for a spirit their name was considered disrespectful especially when they seem to hold power over a name.

The spirit smiled at him softly as if he knew what he was thinking “A name means nothing in this temple and you can’t use it against me without angering the gods. My name is Renjun.”

Sicheng nodded, saying the name in his head and promising to use it sparingly if he can so as to not make the spirit uncomfortable. At the mention of the temple, he looked around to take in the paper doors that were painted with pink cherry blossoms at the edges and he’s lying on a futon that he recognized. “Thank you for wrapping my head but how did I get here?”

Renjun gathered his sleeves to wring his hands in front of him and looking outside the window that he kept open “You were carried by a dear old friend of mine. An older brother of sorts if you can think spirits of different kind can be civil.”

There is a dread that came with the revelation that sent Sicheng’s mind reeling back to what happened before he was here, the maze of the forest he thought he knew so well along with the rising panic that he would die before the kitsune even came back to collect him and the pair of feet that he can now remember and covered his mouth to hide the gasp. Renjun still saw the panic in his eyes and the pity that came in his eyes is something that shouldn’t be there in the body of a child. “I can’t be here. My family is probably worried sick.”

“I know. Your brother was here.”

It was what he feared, eyes going wide as Renjun kept his eyes on him as if to gauge his reaction. Sicheng doesn’t know what to do, if he should take the bait presented to him and confront the spirit or let it slide so he wouldn’t have to deal with this with his splitting headache. It’s unnerving especially when he could feel the anticipation in Renjun’s face as he waited for his response and the self-awareness is what scared him the most that he curled his knees closer to his chest in protection. “Do the monks know you live here?” he settled with another topic and Renjun’s smile curled wider at his evasion.

He stood up gathering his robes, tilting his head “They speak in hushed tones. That’s what most of the villagers do too with how the spirits has been restless since a kitsune of all things came to visit years before,” Sicheng’s flinch didn’t go unnoticed that he stood up as well but losing vertigo that Renjun gathered him in his arms and putting Sicheng’s arm around his shoulder “Please calm down. I mean no harm.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect but I need to go,” Sicheng muttered through his gritted his teeth with a palm applying pressure to where the stabbing pain was worst, giving Renjun an apologetic look as he stood up on his own without stumbling down “Thank you for everything and I promise to give you offerings in return-“

Renjun shook his head with a laugh, waving his hand to try and calm Sicheng but the latter wasn’t feeling any safer even if this spirit had saved him. He’s still a spirit with his own intentions that Sicheng didn’t want to stick around and find out, especially if the possibility of Chenle coming back to the temple to find him may mean that Renjun could speak with him. He would rather cut off his fingers than let his brother ever have any entanglements with the spirit world. He managed to walk sideways as to not keep his back to Renjun for safety measures, eyes trained on him while he tilted his head in curiosity. “Your gratitude isn’t really for me. After all, you can always go back to the mountains to speak to the one who went out of the safety of his home to fly you over here.”

This made Sicheng stop. “What?” He didn’t want to go back there, not after how he was toyed with for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Sicheng should really know better than let himself go through that again.

“It’s not my place to reprimand you,” the zashiki-warashi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes but they shone with something akin to deviousness for the information he’s about to reveal “But you don’t have that much long to live with how your mark resonates.”

Sicheng doesn’t reply, waiting for whatever Renjun has in store.

“But my old friend can help you. If you wish for it, that is.”

The implication is there. To let another spirit lift the mark given by their kind, it meant giving trust in them knowing full well they could turn at you given the chance. Wayward spirits are harder to comprise with during times they give you a bargain and the unpredictable mindset they seem to carry can be fatal.

He can’t say anything else than that he’ll think about it before he’s rushing past the hallways making sure the monks who are surveying the area doesn’t see him and ask how he got there. Renjun looked at his retreating figure with a shake of his head and he gathered his robes to walk towards where they kept the talismans, leaving ash footsteps in his wake.

“Poor Sicheng.” He muttered under his breath, thinking if he should leave incense sticks for Kun so he could give guidance to Sicheng.

 

Chenle rushed into him with open arms the moment he entered their home, an apology at the tip of his tongue before the tiny body slammed against him and hugging tightly around his waist.

“Brother!” he wailed out of joy and exasperation at finally seeing him again perhaps that Sicheng crouched down to gather him in his arms to hug hum just as tight.

His mother let out a sigh of relief when she saw him holding on to Chenle that she walked over to slap him by the head with a click of the tongue.


End file.
